#sat 1/9/18 14:15

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 18

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 18

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6|Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: You struggle under the weight of guilt, convinced you've become a burden in Tommy’s life.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language, mention of torture and vague, nonconsensual sexualization and touch.

A/N: Hey y'alllll, thank you again for reading this far. I'm getting my gallbladder taken out tomorrow (wish me luck) so I won't be able to update for a little while. In the meantime, please feel free to send me suggestions / feedback for if you want this story to continue or if I should start something new :)

--

The scent of fresh bread and strong tea hung in the air as you moved around Tommy’s kitchen, the morning light filtering through the windows in hazy streaks. Your head still ached faintly, but the worst of the pain had dulled since the night before.

You poured tea, keeping your movements steady, deliberate. It felt good to be upright, to be functioning, to be contributing in some small way, even if your body still moved slower than it used to.

Tommy sat at the table, cigarette in one hand, the morning paper in the other, half-read and already smudged with ash. He glanced at you once over the rim of his cup, eyes lingering a second longer than necessary, like he was still waiting for you to collapse.

The front door creaked open a few minutes later, and you heard the familiar shuffle of boots and low voices. Arthur’s laugh carried in first, followed by John’s unmistakable muttering and the lighter tap of Ada’s shoes across the floor.

“Morning,” Ada called, walking into the kitchen and pausing when she saw you. “Oh good, you’re up. How’s the head?”

You offered a small smile. “Better. Sorry I missed the dinner you lot had planned last night.”

“No need to apologize,” Polly said as she appeared behind Finn and Esme, her voice gentle but resolute. “You rest when you need to.”

You nodded, but that gnawing guilt nestled just a little deeper beneath your ribs.

Everyone filtered into the kitchen, plates pulled down, chairs scraped along the floor, casual conversation building between bites and sips. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

Then Finn, already halfway through a slice of toast, leaned towards you and frowned. “John said someone knocked your head around pretty bad. Are you alright now?”

You managed a soft smile, trying to keep your tone light. “I’ve had better weeks, Finn.”

Finn gave a small, sheepish grin. “Yeah… well, you still look better than Arthur after the bar fight he had last spring.”

Arthur, mid-sip of tea, snorted. “Oi! What’re you sayin’ about me over there?”

Finn chuckled, shaking his head before muttering, “It’s true. You looked like a mucky boot. Plus he ended up puking in Polly’s roses.” 

“That was one time–” Arthur grumbled. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Polly interrupted, though the corner of her mouth twitched with the faintest amusement. She turned her attention back to you. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation for taking time to heal. Especially not us.” 

You nodded again, but the guilt didn’t ease. Not fully. You could feel it growing roots beneath your ribs.

As the noise returned, mugs clinking, light teasing continuing, Tommy quietly set a plate down in front of you, his hand brushing your shoulder for the briefest moment before he took a seat across from you.

You looked up, catching the faint shadows under his eyes, the way his posture carried more tension than usual.

John leaned forward. “Tom, you set to still head to London tomorrow?”

Tommy didn’t even look up from his tea. “No.”

John blinked. “Thought you said you needed to meet with the solicitor about that deal.”

“I’m not going,” Tommy said flatly, final.

There was a small beat of silence around the table.

Arthur glanced at him. “Tommy…”

“I said I’m not going,” he repeated, voice quieter now, but firmer. “It can wait. Or one of you can go in my place.”

The guilt tightened around your chest like a vice. He hadn’t said it, but you knew. He wasn’t going because of you. You dropped your gaze back to your plate, appetite slipping away entirely.

Across the table, John frowned. “Tommy, we’ve been working on that deal for weeks. If you’re not there–”

Tommy cut in, sharper this time. “You and Arthur can handle it.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “It’s not about whether we can handle it. You’ve been lead on this since the start. They’ll want to see you.”

Tommy leaned back slightly in his chair, his jaw tight, eyes cold and unreadable. “Then they’ll have to learn to deal without me.”

John scoffed under his breath. “Right. And what happens when you keep pushin’ things off? You think that’s not going to cost us?”

Tommy set his tea down with a heavy clink. “What happens when I’m not around someday, aye?” His voice was low but firm, edged with something that cut deeper than the surface tension in the room. “You two need to stop acting like I’m going to hold your hand through every meeting.”

Arthur and John both stilled at that, exchanging a quick glance.

You kept your eyes down, fingers curling slightly around the edge of your plate.

Arthur leaned forward, his forearms braced against the table. “This deal… it’s not just numbers on a bloody page, Tom.”

John nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s the shipping route. That new line through the South docks– if we lock it down now, we control half the imports before anyone else even knows it’s on offer. Weapons, whiskey, opium, whatever the hell we want moved.”

Arthur exhaled sharply. “And if Sabini or Solomons get wind of it first, it’s gone. Slips right out from under us.”

You looked up slowly, watching the tension settle deeper into Tommy’s frame. He didn’t move, but his jaw worked, tight and deliberate.

John added, more quietly now, “It’s not just money. It’s positioning. Power. This deal puts us ahead of every other crew this side of Camden.”

Arthur nodded, tapping his fingers once against the table. “Could make the Blinders untouchable for a long time– if it goes through.”

There was a long silence. You could feel Tommy’s gaze drift your way, just for a second, and the guilt in your chest twisted tighter.

“You lot always balk about having more responsibility. You want to run the business like we talked about,” Tommy added after a beat. “Then run it.”

Ada's gaze flicked between the three of them but she didn’t speak. Even Finn had gone quiet. The clatter of cutlery and soft rustle of chairs filled the silence, but the unease lingered just beneath the surface, along with the guilt still blooming in your chest.

The tension still lingered, heavy in the air like smoke, but Polly, ever the one to smooth sharp edges, lifted her teacup with a pointed glance around the table. “No more talk of business over breakfast. Not today.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but it was final. The kind of tone that settled everyone without question.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Since when do we have rules at breakfast?”

“Since now,” Polly said sharply. “Some of us would like to finish our eggs without hearing about bloody ledgers.”

Ada chuckled. “Amen to that.”

John muttered something under his breath, earning a swat on the arm from Esme.

Then Finn piped up, voice light but earnest, “This is the first time we’ve all had breakfast together in weeks. That’s something, innit?”

Ada grinned and ruffled his hair. “Look at you, getting all sentimental.”

Finn shrugged. “Just sayin’. It’s nice, that’s all.”

That earned a few smiles, a little warmth returning to the room as conversation shifted to less business, and more stories and teasing.

Eventually, the clatter of cutlery slowed, plates emptied, and conversation mellowed into quiet chuckles and soft sighs of contentment. Esme stood to pour more tea. Ada started teasing Arthur about his terrible handwriting. Finn tried to sneak another piece of toast before Polly swatted his hand away with a muttered, “You’ve had four already, love.”

But you stayed mostly quiet, your fork absently nudging crumbs around your plate.

Tommy hadn’t looked at you since the London conversation. Not directly, anyway. But you felt his presence beside you, steady and close, the way you always did.

Eventually, the table cleared, and the others filtered out of the house after saying their goodbyes, leaving only the two of you behind. You stood at the sink, rinsing plates in slow circles, your movements more for something to do than out of necessity. The ache in your head was growing now, along with the heaviness in your chest.

Tommy was still seated at the table, cigarette between his fingers, eyes following the lazy curl of smoke drifting upward. 

“You didn’t eat much,” he said softly.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

A beat passed. The only sound was the soft clink of porcelain and the faint hiss of his cigarette. You wiped your hands on a towel, lingering at the sink a moment longer before finally turning back toward him.

“Tommy, why aren’t you going to London?” you asked quietly.

His eyes didn’t move from the smoke curling toward the ceiling. He took another slow drag before replying, “John or Arthur can go for me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His gaze dropped to you then, steady and unreadable. “It’s not urgent.”

You studied him, arms folding across your chest like a shield. “But John said it was. That it was a deal that needed to be handled in person.”

“It can wait,” he said again, the edge of finality creeping into his voice.

You hesitated, the words sitting sharp behind your teeth. “Is it because of me?”

He didn’t answer right away, but he didn't deny it either. Instead, he just sat there, smoke curling from his fingers, jaw tightening slightly.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. “Tommy, you don’t have to stay here with me all the time.”

His eyes finally lifted to yours, sharp and unreadable. “I know.”

“Then why are you?” The question came out thinner than you’d meant, wrapped in guilt you hadn’t quite managed to bury. “I’m not asking you to babysit me. I’m not asking you to put everything on hold.”

“You’re not asking,” he agreed, voice quiet. “I’m choosing."

The finality in his voice left no room for argument, no space for guilt to take root again.

So you just nodded, small, almost imperceptible.

“Okay,” you murmured softly. 

Tommy held your gaze a moment longer, then slowly stood. The chair scraped gently against the floor as he moved, shoulders rolling back with a quiet exhale. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and struck a match with one fluid motion. The flame flickered briefly before catching, and he inhaled deeply, the smoke curling through the air in soft ribbons.

Then, without a word, he picked up the folded paper from the table, eyes scanning over the print like nothing had just happened.

You watched him move, watched the shift of his shoulders, the way his fingers curled around the edge of the paper, the quiet steadiness in him that always seemed just out of reach but somehow comforting.

After a moment, your voice broke the silence again. “Can I at least make myself useful and go back to the Garrison soon?”

Tommy’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, unreadable. You pushed on, quieter now. “I can work the bar. Just a few hours to help Harry out.”

His mouth twitched, not in amusement, but something closer to disbelief. Tommy stood slowly, cigarette still between his fingers. The chair scraped quietly against the floor as he stepped toward you, eyes fixed on your face.

“When you can make it through an entire day without going blind or vomiting,” he said dryly, “we’ll talk about it.”

You looked down, lips pressing into a tight line. You nodded again, biting back the sting in your chest. His hand found your shoulder, warm and steady. A moment later, you felt the press of his lips at your temple, soft, grounding, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

He didn’t say anything else. Just let his hand drift down your arm briefly before stepping away, footsteps soft as he walked toward the door.

When it clicked shut behind him, the silence wrapped around you again.

…

Three days passed.

You could feel it– the distance growing between you and Tommy. Not because he had changed, but because you had.

It was Campbell’s shadow that lingered, not Tommy’s. But it didn’t matter. Every time Tommy reached for you, every time his hand grazed your waist or his lips found your temple, your body flinched before your mind could catch up. And it wasn’t fair, because he wasn’t the one who hurt you. But the memory lived under your skin like poison, curling in your muscles, coiling behind your ribs.

There were moments when you reached for him first. When you pressed into his arms and, for just a breath, the world stopped spinning. Because somehow, in his arms, you didn’t feel fragmented. Only when he held you did you feel put back together, like your pieces might actually belong somewhere again. Like you weren’t entirely broken.

But only when it was on your terms. Only when your body didn’t feel like a battleground, when your skin didn’t feel like it still belonged to someone else.

And then came the shame, the quiet, creeping shame that made you want to crawl out of your own skin. That made you feel like none of it should be this hard. Like you should’ve healed faster. Like it was your fault that every soft, loving touch still carried a ghost.

That night, back at the house, the fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. Tommy sat in his armchair, legs stretched out slightly, a stack of papers in his lap, cigarette burning low between his fingers. His eyes skimmed over the documents, brow occasionally furrowing in thought, the silence between you filled only by the scratch of the fire and the rustle of turning pages.

You watched him for a while from your spot on the couch– watched the way his jaw flexed as he read, the way his fingers shifted the pages with that same quiet control he carried in everything he did. The ache behind your ribs hadn’t lessened, not really. 

But your body moved before your mind could talk you out of it. Quietly, without a word, you rose from the couch and padded across the rug toward him.

Tommy looked up, eyes flicking to you, but he didn’t speak, just set his papers aside slightly, already shifting in the chair to make room.

You climbed into his lap carefully, your knees folding on either side of his hips as you settled into him, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

Still, he didn’t ask. Didn’t question it. He just opened his arms and let you in.

One arm curled around your back, anchoring you gently against his chest. The other reached for the papers again, as if this was nothing unusual, as if holding you there, close and steady, was just as natural as reading through business ledgers.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as his warmth wrapped around you. His heartbeat thudded softly beneath your ear, and for the first time all day, your chest eased just enough to breathe.

Tommy’s fingers absently ran along the curve of your spine, slow and comforting, like he didn’t even know he was doing it. Then his hand drifted upward, tracing lightly over your shoulder blades before settling at the base of your skull.

His fingers moved gently there, slow circles worked into the tense muscles at the nape of your neck, easing the tightness you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

After a moment, his voice came low, near your temple. “How’s your head tonight?”

You didn’t answer right away, just let yourself lean a little heavier into him, eyes still closed, letting the rhythm of his touch lull some of the ache from your bones.

“It’s okay,” you murmured eventually. 

His thumb brushed tenderly along the edge of your hairline. “You’re a horrible liar.” 

You sighed. “So you’ve said.”

Tommy’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed that slow, grounding motion at the base of your skull.

The fire had burned low by the time you drifted off in Tommy’s arms, but at some point during the night, you vaguely remembered the feeling of being lifted– strong arms curling beneath you, the warmth of his chest against yours, the soft rasp of his voice murmuring something you were too far gone to understand. A door creaked open. Sheets shifted. A blanket tucked carefully around your shoulders.

Now, you stirred again to quiet stillness. The bed beside you was empty, the space where he’d been still faintly warm. You sat up slowly, your head heavy but clear. You rubbed your eyes and glanced toward the door, catching the faintest trace of light beneath it. Voices followed, low, hushed, but tense.

You stood, careful not to make the floorboards creak, and padded silently toward the hallway. Down the stairs, flickering firelight spilled from the open door of Tommy’s study.

And then, the voices grew clearer.

“I told you they were skittish,” Arthur was saying, his voice low and tense.

“They didn’t just get skittish,” John shot back. “They pulled out, full stop.”

A pause.

Then Tommy’s voice, sharper, more clipped. “Just tell me what happened.”

“The deal is shot, Tom. The whole fuckin’ thing,” John muttered. “Said they didn’t like that you weren’t there yourself. Didn’t trust it.”

“Thought you were hiding something,” Arthur added darkly. 

You stayed frozen at the bottom of the stairs, barely breathing.

“Word is they’re talking to Sabini,” John said. “Maybe already signed with him.”

A beat of silence. You could picture Tommy now, leaning back in his chair, jaw clenched, that familiar flicker of calculation in his eyes.

And then you heard it, the thing that made your throat tighten and your chest ache.

“Because you weren’t in London,” John muttered. “Because you stayed here.”

You stepped back instinctively, the words hitting like a blow to the chest. It wasn’t said with malice, not really, John’s voice hadn’t carried blame. But the implication rang louder than anything else in the room. The guilt crawled up your spine like something cold and living.

You turned quietly, retreating up the stairs before your presence could be noticed. Each step felt heavier than the last, your head buzzing, chest tightening with the weight of everything unsaid.

By the time you reached the bedroom again, the silence felt different. Not comforting this time, but thick and echoing, like it was pressing in around you.

You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers curling in the bedsheets, eyes unfocused.

You had to get it together.

You couldn’t keep falling apart every time the air got too still, every time your head ached or your heart clenched with a memory. You couldn’t keep leaning on Tommy like he was the only thing holding you upright, not when it was starting to cost him.

He’d already sacrificed too much. And if things kept slipping, if the business continued to suffer, you’d be the reason. You couldn’t stomach that. Not after everything.

Even if your chest still tightened at night. Even if there were moments when the world tilted sideways and it felt like your ribs might crack from the weight of it all.

Even if it meant smiling when your head was pounding. Even if it meant pretending your hands weren’t trembling the moment Campbell’s face flashed behind your eyes. 

You’d just have to hide it better. Be steadier. Stronger. More convincing.

…

The next morning, you woke before the sun had fully risen.

The dull ache in your head had returned– not blinding, but ever-present, pulsing quietly behind your temples like a reminder that your body was still catching up to your bravado. You sat up slowly, blinking away the haze, willing the room to stop its slow tilt. It didn’t. Not entirely. But you braced your palms against the mattress and breathed through it until it passed.

When you made your way downstairs, the scent of tea drifted from the kitchen. Tommy stood at the stove, sleeves rolled, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he stirred something in a pan.

You straightened your posture and forced your steps to stay steady.

“Morning,” you said lightly, grabbing a mug from the counter like your limbs didn’t still tremble faintly.

Tommy glanced over his shoulder. “You’re up early.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of coffee, trying not to wince at the way the bitterness sparked behind your eyes. “Figured I’d get a head start. Thought I might stop by the Garrison.”

Tommy’s brow lifted, his stirring slowing just slightly. “You thought you might?”

You nodded, pretending not to notice the weight behind his gaze. “Just for a few hours. Nothing too much. I’ll help Harry with the stockroom or polishing glasses– whatever he needs.”

He said nothing at first. Just turned back to the pan, jaw tight, the silence dragging.

“I feel fine,” you added, softer now, trying to meet his eyes.

Tommy didn’t turn around right away. 

“Do you now?” he said finally, low and clipped.

You held your ground, trying not to shift under the weight of his voice. “I do.”

He turned slowly, setting the spoon down, his eyes narrowing just slightly as they met yours. “You’re still flinching when you stand up too fast. You get quiet when the light’s too bright. And you think I haven’t noticed how your hands shake when you think no one’s looking?”

You swallowed hard, jaw tightening. “I’m not saying I’m at a hundred percent. But good enough to go back."

Tommy studied you, arms folding across his chest now, brow furrowed in that unreadable way that always made your chest tighten. “You pushing yourself to prove something to me isn’t going to help you heal faster.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything to you,” you said, voice steadier now. “I’m just trying to be useful.”

He stared at you for a long beat, cigarette burning low between his fingers. Then finally, he sighed, slow and reluctant.

“One shift,” he said, pointing toward you slightly with the hand holding the cigarette. “A short one. And if you so much as wince or wobble, you come straight home. You don’t argue.”

You nodded quickly, almost too quickly. “Fine.”

Tommy’s mouth twitched, barely a smile. He stepped forward, pressed a kiss to your temple, and muttered against your skin, “You’re bloody stubborn, you know that?”

“Must be catching,” you murmured back, just under your breath.

He gave a faint scoff and turned back to the pan.

...

Your shift had started slow– organizing glasses, taking light orders, helping Harry restock the shelves in the back. At first, it felt manageable. Easy, even. The motions were familiar, your body moving on instinct, muscle memory guiding you through the steps. For a while, you almost felt like yourself again. Like things could go back to normal, if only you tried hard enough.

But somewhere along the way, the hours had slipped by unnoticed. You’d told yourself it was fine. Just one more hour. Then another. And another after that. You hadn’t even realized how long you’d been standing, how much you’d been pushing, until the dull throb behind your eyes started to build into something sharper.

Now your head was pounding– a slow, pulsing ache that bloomed beneath your skull like a storm brewing just out of reach. The lights above the bar felt too bright, the low chatter of the patrons far too loud. Every clatter of glass, every burst of laughter sent a fresh spike of pain radiating through your temples.

Still, you kept moving.

You couldn’t fall apart here. Not in front of everyone. Not when you were trying so damn hard to prove you could handle it.

You smiled politely at the next patron, even though it felt like your skin was stretched too tight across your face. You wiped down the countertop with a damp cloth, even though your fingers trembled slightly against the rag. Your vision blurred at the edges, just enough to make you blink hard and press your lips together to keep from swaying.

Harry glanced over from the end of the bar, eyes narrowing slightly. He’d been watching you more closely than usual all day, though he hadn’t said much. Until now.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, tone low but gentle, concern evident in his lined features as he approached.

You straightened a little, forcing a breath through your nose and nodding too quickly. “Fine,” you said, a little too brightly. “Just a bit warm in here.”

But even as the words left your mouth, you felt the ache pulsing again– like a warning just beneath your skin.

Harry didn’t look convinced.

In fact, his brow furrowed deeper as he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Thought Tommy said you were only meant to do a few hours,” he said, wiping his hands on a bar towel. “You’ve been on your feet half the bloody day.”

You gave another faint smile, trying to keep it casual. “He worries too much.”

Harry huffed. “Aye, well… in his shoes, I might too. You look pale, love.”

“I’m fine,” you said again– quieter now, more like a prayer than a statement.

But before Harry could push further, the front door creaked open. A rush of cool air filtered in with it.

And there he was.

Tommy's eyes scanned the Garrison with calculated ease before locking onto you behind the bar. His jaw tensed instantly, just a flicker, but you saw it. It felt it like a punch to the ribs.

You stood a little straighter, tried to summon a smile, pretended like everything was fine. You even picked up another glass to polish, just to look busy.

But Tommy didn’t move right away. He just stood there in the doorway, watching you with that unreadable look– like he already knew everything he needed to know before you’d even said a word.

Harry muttered under his breath, almost to himself, “Shit.”

You turned to face Tommy fully, heart thudding as if the pounding in your skull wasn’t already loud enough.

“Hey,” you said, feigning lightness. “Didn’t think you’d come by tonight.”

His eyes flicked to the rag in your hand, then back to your face. “Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

His voice wasn’t loud. Wasn’t sharp. But it cut through the room like a blade.

You straightened your spine a little more, holding that polite smile like a shield. “Just lost track of time,” you said softly, setting the glass down. “It’s not a big deal.”

Tommy stepped forward now, slow and measured, his eyes never leaving yours. “You were supposed to be here for a few hours.”

“I know.”

“And how long’s it been?”

You hesitated, your eyes darting toward the clock. The answer hung in the air between you. Too long. Long enough for him to be right. Long enough to feel it in every throbbing pulse behind your eyes.

“I’m fine, Tommy,” you said again, quieter this time.

“I’m not asking how you feel,” he said, voice lower now as he came around the bar, closer to you. “I’m telling you your hands are shaking.”

You instinctively curled your fingers tighter around the rag, hiding the tremor. But it was too late, he’d already seen it. He always saw everything.

“I said I’m fine. Let me finish wiping down–”

“No.”

You stiffened. The word landed heavy between you, sharp and final.

You blinked up at him, your jaw tightening. “You don’t get to tell me when I’m done.”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his voice stayed calm. “We’re not doing this here. Let’s go.”

You shook your head, the frustration swelling in your chest like a rising tide. “Christ, Tommy. I’m not made of glass. You can’t keep dragging me out of rooms like I’m going to fucking collapse every time I breathe too hard.”

Tommy sighed, like this whole thing was a massive inconvenience. “I’m not dragging you anywhere. I’m telling you you’ve done enough for one day.”

“Enough for your standards, you mean.” You stepped back, trying to shove past the heat crawling up your throat.

"Yeah, my standards. Last time I checked, I was the one employing you."

Your jaw flexed. Fuck, you thought. He was right. You hated that he was right. You hated that your body was still betraying you. That every time you tried to prove you could keep going, you ended up like this, shaking, dizzy, broken glass at your feet and tears you couldn’t swallow down fast enough.

"I'm not something fragile that needed protecting all the time."

“Then stop acting like it,” he snapped. 

Your eyes widened, breath catching hard in your chest. 

The words cut deeper than they should have, sharp and unrelenting, worse than the sting of the glass or the pounding in your head.

You turned on your heel before he could say anything else, pushing your way into the back room and slamming the door shut behind you. You needed space– just a second to breathe, to collect yourself, to stop the way your chest was tightening.

You reached for a glass on the shelf, anything to keep your hands busy. Anything to keep from feeling the sting in your eyes.

But your fingers trembled. The ache in your head flared sharp again. And before you could even react, the glass slipped from your grasp.

Crash.

It shattered against the floor, loud and jarring. And that was it.

The tears came before you could stop them– hot, angry, humiliated tears. Not from the glass, not from the pain, but from the frustration, the helplessness, the exhaustion of pretending everything was fine when your body was still screaming otherwise.

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to blink it all away, trying to hold yourself upright even though your legs suddenly felt too weak.

But then you heard footsteps behind you.

“Are you done proving your point–”

Tommy stopped mid-sentence.

You didn’t have to look at him to feel the shift in his presence, or the way his entire demeanor softened the moment he saw your shoulders shaking, the tears on your cheeks.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentler now, quiet. “Hey.”

You turned away, trying to wipe your face, but he was already there, stepping over the broken glass, reaching for you carefully like he was afraid you’d break just like the pieces on the floor.

“Come here,” he murmured, arms outstretched, steady and warm.

You turned, eyes wet, throat tight, just in time to see his arms start to reach for you.

But you stepped back sharply, shaking your head. “Don’t.”

Tommy stilled.

“I’m so sick of this,” you snapped, voice cracking. “Sick of being treated like I’m some fragile thing that can’t take a deep breath without falling apart.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t speak. Just stood there, steady, watching you with that infuriating calm.

“I’m trying,” you said, voice rising. “I’m trying to feel normal again, to be normal again. But you don’t get it,” you said, bitter now. “You don’t know what it’s like to wake up and not even recognize your own body anymore. To be afraid of your own mind and what it can do to me.”

Your breath hitched, another tear slipping down your cheek before you could stop it. “I don’t want to be a burden, Tommy.”

He stepped closer again, slower this time. “You’re not.”

You shook your head, hands curling into fists at your sides. “You can say I’m not all you want, but I am, Tommy. You’re giving everything up just to babysit me, and I–” Your voice cracked, raw and exposed. “I heard you.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Heard what?”

You swallowed hard, chest tightening. “The other night. You were talking to Arthur and John… about the London deal.”

Tommy went still.

“I wasn’t trying to listen,” you rushed to add, voice shaking. “I’d woken up, and you weren’t there, and I came downstairs and… I heard John say it. That they pulled out because you weren’t there. Because you stayed here with me.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change much, just a subtle flicker in his jaw, the smallest shift in his eyes.

You blinked through another wave of tears. “And I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. That I cost you something important. That the whole reason it’s falling apart is because I couldn’t keep it together.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the sting behind your eyes. “What happens when you fall behind on business? When things start slipping? What happens then?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustrated. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “Since when are you up for giving me business advice?”

You straightened slightly, heart pounding, the tension curling tighter beneath your ribs.

“I’m not giving you business advice,” you said, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m just saying… you don’t have to stay with me all the time, Tommy. I’m not expecting you to.”

He looked at you then, and there was something unreadable behind his eyes.

“You think I’m here out of obligation?” His voice was low, steady, but there was a clipped edge beneath it. “You think I stayed because I felt I had to?”

You didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched.

“I think you’ve got a business to run. A family to look after. And you’re putting that on hold.”

His jaw flexed. 

“And I’m just saying maybe you shouldn’t.”

He let out a humorless breath, more a scoff than a laugh, and turned away.

You pushed a little further, the guilt pressing harder. “You stayed in the hospital with me for a week– you must have missed other meetings, other deals.”

He turned his head slightly, just enough for you to see the profile of his face, his clenched jaw, the flicker in his eyes. “What’s your point?”

You stepped closer. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re falling behind. Christ, I’m not completely helpless– I can take care of myself.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer, your voice quieter now, but no less firm. “I heard the way Arthur and John talked to you.”

You swallowed, eyes dropping briefly to the floor. “I don’t want to be the reason things start to unravel.” You hesitated, your throat tightening. “They think I’m holding you back. And maybe they’re right.”

His expression hardened slightly, not with anger, but something quieter. Something wounded.

“I’m not trying to cause a rift between you and them,” you added. “They’re your family. Your blood. I’m not even–” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “I’m not part of that. Not really.”

You crossed your arms tightly, the tension in your shoulders finally catching up to you, dragging you down with it. Your hands came together in your lap, twisting over one another, trying to wring the nerves from your fingertips.

There was a beat of silence. Tommy’s jaw ticked, his shoulders squaring as he studied you. The muscles in his throat moved as he swallowed, slow and deliberate.

“You think that’s how I see you?” he asked finally, low and quiet, but laced with something that stung more than shouting ever could.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper. 

After a moment, Tommy’s mouth tugged into a crooked, humorless half-smile. “I’ve had lots of women in my bed before,” he said, voice low. 

Your eyes stung before you could stop it, a sharp pressure building behind them as your chest tightened. That ache, deep, quiet, relentless, spread beneath your ribs, heavy and hollow all at once.

“Pretty ones. Clever ones. Ones who only wanted to ride the high while it lasted.” His gaze flicked over you. 

You blinked hard, a tear slipping free despite your best efforts. Your hands curled tightly in your lap as you tried to imagine where the hell he was going with any of this. 

“I’ve had lots of women in my bed before,” Tommy said again, quieter now, like he regretted saying it the first time at all. “But none of them ever made me give a fuck about anything but myself. They were good for a night. That’s it. Never once made me want to change a thing. They were just noise. Something to fill the time.”

His voice lingered in the air, quiet but weighted, hanging between you like smoke.

You didn’t look up, not yet. You couldn’t. Not with your eyes burning and your throat thick with the ache of it. But you felt him move closer. 

The scent of him, smoke and cologne and something warmer, something familiar, wrapped around you like a balm. His shoes stopped in front of yours, and slowly, carefully, he reached out to tilt your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“But you…” he said. “You’re not just noise.”

You met his gaze, finally, and there it was, laid bare in the blue of his eyes. Not just guilt or tenderness. But need. Affection. Something deeper than all of it.

“You’re not just in my life,” he said, voice nearly a whisper. “You’re the only part I give a damn about.”

Your eyes met his again, full of something fragile and raw. “I’m scared that you’ll look at me and regret these choices– because you were too busy worrying about me and my mess.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t waver. His eyes met yours, steady and unreadable. “I thought you were dead, you know?”

The words stopped you cold. He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to. It was low. Heavy. Final. “I’ve seen a lot of things. Done worse. But that…” His jaw locked, throat shifting with the effort to keep it together.

“That’s not something I can just walk away from.” He finally looked at you again, eyes shadowed and tired. “So if I’m skipping meetings, taking time… it’s not because I think you need me. It’s because I don’t want to be away from you right now. Because I need to remind myself that you didn’t die because of me.” 

You didn’t know what to say. The heat in your throat burned, your chest tight with emotion you couldn’t quite name.

Tommy held your gaze, his jaw set now, voice steady and resolute. “John and Arthur can handle the business. That’s what we’ve been building toward. And if they can’t–” he shrugged once, slow and deliberate, “then I’ll deal with it later. Business comes and goes. Deals fall through. We build new ones.”

He stroked the softness of your cheek, enough to make sure you were looking at him. “But I lost you for two whole fucking days. I nearly lost you for good– and I refuse to lose you now,” he added, jaw clenched. “Not because you wanted to prove something. Not because you wanted to work a bloody shift at the Garrison when you should’ve been in bed.”

Tommy’s eyes softened, the edge in his voice giving way to something more fragile, something far more human.

“So, will you please stop arguing and just come home with me?” he asked quietly.

You blinked up at him, breath catching.

“So that I can remind myself that you’re still here. That I didn’t lose you.”

His words settled into your ribs, aching and tender.

You hesitated, eyes flickering toward the shattered glass on the floor behind you. “But… what about the glass? I can't leave that for Harry..”

Tommy let out a rough breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, shaking his head as he closed the distance between you.

His arms wrapped around your frame, firm and grounding, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other anchoring you against his chest.

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me,” he murmured into your hair, voice rough with affection. “Bloody hell.”

You sank into him, fingers clutching the front of his coat, letting yourself breathe for the first time all day.

“Come on,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s go home.”

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[cassiemaebarnes]

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 18 (final part)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterlist

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 3,068

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI

After a few hours of reading, you closed your book with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m bored. And hungry.”

Bucky just chuckled, closing his own book and looking over at you. “Alright. Where do you wanna go?”

You just hummed, then looked at him with a smile. “We should go somewhere nice. First official date as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “I know a place.”

He stood, grabbing your book from your lap, then reaching out his hand to help you up. You took it and stood, then laced your fingers with his as you made your way back to the car.

He opened the passenger door for you, then walked around to the driver’s side and got in, leaning back and tossing the books back into the bag in the back seat.

The drive wasn’t long, just about twenty minutes, with soft music playing on the radio and your fingers still laced with his over the center console. You tried to guess where he was taking you, throwing out random names of restaurants and diners around the city, but he just smirked and shook his head each time.

When he finally pulled up to a charming, warmly lit restaurant tucked on a quiet street corner, you let out a delighted little gasp.

“This is perfect,” you said, already reaching for your door handle.

“Ah, ah,” Bucky scolded playfully, immediately getting out and circling the car.

You just smiled, heart fluttering a little as he opened it for you and held out his hand. You took it gladly, stepping out, and as soon as you were on your feet, he gently tucked your hand into the crook of his arm.

“Such a gentleman,” you murmured, teasing.

He just smirked. “You bring it out of me.”

Inside, the hostess greeted you with a warm smile and led you to a cozy table near the back, the lighting soft and golden. Bucky pulled your chair out before you could even think to reach for it, then sat across from you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours with a fondness that made your cheeks warm.

You both scanned the menus for a few minutes before placing your orders, and once the waitress walked away, you both settled in comfortably, conversation flowing easily.

“You know,” you said, twirling your straw in your drink, “if you keep being this perfect, I might get used to it.”

Bucky grinned, leaning back in his seat, one arm resting over the back of the chair beside him. “That the worst thing that could happen?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Hmm…no. But it does raise the bar significantly for everyone else.”

He leaned forward a little, voice low and teasing. “Good. I don’t want anyone else to try.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, but your smile lingered as you rested your chin on your hand. “You know, I like this. Just…us. Normal.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Me too, doll.”

The food arrived not long after, and the conversation shifted from mission stories and random Avengers chaos to childhood memories and bucket list dreams. You laughed so hard at one of Bucky’s sarcastic remarks about Sam that you nearly choked on your water, and he looked so pleased with himself it only made you laugh harder.

By the time the plates were cleared, you felt full – not just from the food, but from the warmth of the night, the comfort of Bucky’s presence, the soft kind of happiness that didn’t need to be loud to be real.

And when the waitress asked if you wanted dessert, Bucky looked at you and asked, “You want something sweet?”

You smiled. “I already got you.”

He groaned at the cheesiness, but he was grinning like a fool.

“Alright, now you’re just trying to kill me,” he said with a chuckle.

“Okay but seriously,” you said, looking at the waitress and raising an eyebrow, “what do you have.”

She laughed softly before handing you a dessert menu, telling you she’d give you a few minutes and stepping away.

Bucky clutched his chest as if you’d wounded him, eyes wide with mock betrayal.

“You actually do want something sweet?” he gasped.

You grinned, totally playing along. “I do. I can’t help it. I’m craving something rich and chocolatey.”

He gave an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. “Unbelievable. I give you my heart, and you throw me aside for dessert.”

You snorted. “Please, like you weren’t planning on stealing bites the second it shows up.”

He narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Bold of you to assume I like sweet things.”

Before you could reply, the waitress returned, and Bucky turned on the charm like a switch. “She’ll have the chocolate lava cake, please.”

You rested your chin on your hand and smiled at him. “You know me so well.”

“I do my best,” he said with a wink.

When the dessert arrived, you practically lit up, grabbing a spoon and diving in with a satisfied hum. “Oh, this is so good.”

You held out a spoonful to him. “C’mon, just one bite.”

He leaned back slightly, shaking his head with a half-smile. “I’m not a big sweets guy.”

You froze mid-spoon lift, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me?”

He raised a brow. “What?”

“You don’t like sweets?” You blinked at him in mock horror. “So you don’t like me?”

His grin turned sly. “Oh, I like you plenty. I can handle some sweetness.” He leaned forward slightly, voice low and teasing. “I’m just saving my dessert for later.”

You paused, caught completely off guard by the heat in his tone. Your brain short-circuited for a second, your cheeks heating as your spoon hovered in midair. But then you laughed, biting your lip and shaking your head.

“Wow,” you said under your breath. “Did not see that one coming.”

But inside, your thoughts were far less composed. The words replayed in your head on a loop, and suddenly, your legs felt a little weaker under the table.

You finished the dessert with a flurry of shared smiles and lingering glances, and when the waitress brought the check, Bucky was already reaching for his wallet.

“I can–” you started, but he was already slipping a card onto the table.

He gave you a look. “I’ve got it.”

You shrugged, completely unbothered. “Good. Because I didn’t even bring my wallet.”

That got a real laugh out of him, head tilting back slightly. “Unbelievable.”

You just grinned smugly, pushing the empty plate toward the edge of the table. “What can I say? I like being spoiled.”

He leaned closer, lips curling into a soft smirk. “Good. I like spoiling you.”

And you couldn’t help it – your stomach flipped again, that light, happy flutter taking over your whole chest as you looked at him across the table.

The waitress came and took the check, then came back a moment later, setting it down with a smile. “All set. You two have a great night.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said with a nod as he stood, already moving around the table.

You started to push your chair back, but he was there before you could even touch it, gently sliding it out for you. You gave him a look as you stood, a smile tugging at your lips. “You really going for the perfect gentleman routine tonight, huh?”

He just offered his arm with a smirk. “Always, doll.”

You looped your arm through his, letting him lead you toward the exit. He opened the restaurant door for you too, holding it until you stepped outside, then following close behind.

When you reached the car, he quickly jogged around to open the passenger door for you. “After you.”

You raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Careful, Barnes. If you keep this up, I might get used to it.”

He smirked. “Good. You should.”

The second you were buckled in, he shut your door and rounded the front to slide into the driver’s seat. He started the car, one hand on the wheel, the other settling comfortably on your thigh.

At first, it was casual – his thumb rubbing slow circles into your leggings. But then his hand started to drift. Just a little. Barely noticeable.

Except your stomach noticed. Immediately.

You glanced down, then shot him a look, grinning. “You know that’s illegal, right?”

He looked far too smug for someone who was definitely not watching the road as closely as he should’ve been. “What? My hand? It’s just resting.”

“Resting doesn’t involve slowly creeping up my thigh like that,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.

His thumb moved just a little higher. “You sure? Feels pretty natural to me.”

You snorted, trying not to squirm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he added casually, “if you didn’t want me touching you, you wouldn’t be wearing these leggings. They’re criminal, doll.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

“Completely,” he said without missing a beat. “You wear them, I suffer. It’s a crime against me, really.”

“Uh-huh.” You leaned your head back against the seat, trying to hide your smile – and how warm your skin was getting under his palm. “You’re laying it on thick tonight.”

“Can’t help it,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You looked too damn good crawling across that bed earlier. It’s burned into my brain now.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand. “You’re such a menace.”

He chuckled, voice low and rich. “You love it.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “Unfortunately.”

He laughed again, and you felt his hand squeeze your thigh gently – still wandering dangerously close to territory that was definitely not rated for a public highway. But his grin stayed playful, teasing, never crossing the line.

And the whole ride back, the two of you kept trading jokes and flirty banter, your laughter filling the car, the heat between you simmering quietly – the kind of warmth that promised more later, once you were back behind closed doors.

By the time you pulled up to the compound, your face hurt from smiling and your stomach still fluttered every time Bucky’s hand moved just a little higher on your thigh.

He parked the car and turned off the engine, glancing over at you with that same teasing smirk he’d worn all night. “You good?”

You raised a brow. “You mean aside from being relentlessly harassed in the passenger seat?”

“Harassed?” he scoffed, feigning offense. “That was gentle affection.”

You snorted. “Your definition of gentle needs some serious revision.”

He only grinned more, unbuckling and hopping out. You reached for your handle, but – of course – he beat you to it, opening your door with a flourish and offering his hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you said with a curtsy of your head as you stepped out.

He shut the door behind you and leaned in. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You walked side by side into the compound, your steps slow, a bit lazy from the comfortable buzz of good food, warmth, and the lingering tension still dancing between you. The building was quiet – most of the team already turned in for the night. The low hum of lights and soft echo of your footsteps filled the halls as you headed toward his room.

The second you turned the corner toward his hallway, Bucky’s hand found your waist and pulled you in closer, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. “Still sweet?”

You glanced up at him, meeting those blue eyes with a challenge. “Why? You planning on testing that theory?”

His grin was slow and dangerous, his hand tightening just slightly on your waist. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” you said, opening his door, stepping inside, and tugging him in by the front of his shirt, “let’s see.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and the second it did, Bucky was on you.

One hand stayed on your waist as his other came up and cupped your face as his lips met yours. His fingers slid back into your hair as the kiss deepened, and your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer, your bodies pressing flush.

You walked backward blindly, lips never parting, until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere – your waist, your back, skimming the hem of your sweater and slipping underneath. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his fingers on your skin, warm and a little rough, his touch reverent and searching.

He picked you up effortlessly, laying you down on the bed as he climbed on and hovered over top of you. He used his knee to part your legs, then settled in between them as he leaned back down to you.

His lips crashed into yours again, more urgent now. He pulled your sweater up and over your head, tossing it aside without even looking, then leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses down your neck, taking his time like he had nowhere else to be but with you.

You gasped when he reached a sensitive spot near your collarbone, your hands tightening in his shirt before you started pulling it up. His red henley joined your sweater on the floor, and your fingers traced over the defined lines of his chest, the contrast of soft skin and firm muscle beneath your palms making your stomach flip.

His hand slipped underneath your back, unhooking your bra, then pulling it off of you.

His eyes dragged over you with quiet reverence, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the center of your chest.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, lips brushing over your skin with every word. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath catching as his kisses trailed lower – over your ribs, down your stomach – each one deliberate, slow, like he was savoring you.

“Still sweet?” he whispered again, his smirk returning as he glanced up at you, lips just above the waistband of your leggings.

You arched an eyebrow, challenging. “You tell me.”

That was all the permission he needed.

His fingers hooked into the band of your leggings, dragging them down achingly slow. “I plan on finding out,” he murmured, the heat in his voice sending a shiver through you. “Told you I was saving dessert for later.”

He kissed your hipbone, then lower, his voice rough with want as he added, “And I’ve been starving, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched again as he settled between your thighs, and then his mouth was on you – warm, purposeful, and utterly devastating.

You cried out, fingers threading through his hair, hips instinctively rolling toward him. He held you firm, one hand gripping your thigh as the other slid slowly up your side, grounding you.

“Mmm,” he hummed, wicked and pleased against your skin. “Knew it. Fucking sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

You were already trembling, pleasure curling low in your belly, but that voice – his voice – was what unraveled you. He kept talking between kisses, every word more sinful than the last.

“Could spend all night right here, doll…tasting you, hearing those sounds…”

You whimpered, and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it. That’s my girl. Let go for me baby.”

It didn’t take long.

And when he finally pulled himself back up over you, his mouth found yours again – slow, deep, dizzying – and when you tasted yourself on his tongue, your whole body lit up all over again.

And for the rest of the night, he made good on every promise his voice had made.

--

The soft hum of the alarm drifted through the room just after sunrise.

You didn’t move.

You were still curled against Bucky’s chest, your leg draped over his, your body tangled with his beneath the sheets. His arms were wrapped around you, protective even in sleep, one hand resting over the curve of your waist like it belonged there.

You felt him stir before the alarm clicked off – his thumb tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, laced with sleep.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes still closed, “no it’s not. It’s too early to be morning.”

He chuckled softly, and the sound rumbled through his chest against your cheek. “Fair point.”

You both lay there in the stillness for a while, no rush, no expectations. Just the warmth of the covers, the quiet hum of the compound beyond the walls, and the comfort of being exactly where you were supposed to be.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to look up at him. His hair was tousled, eyes still heavy with sleep, but the soft look on his face when he met your gaze made your heart flutter.

“What?” you whispered, smiling.

He shook his head slightly. “Nothin’. Just…never thought I’d be waking up like this.”

You let your fingers drift lightly over his bare chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Kind of crazy how fast everything changed.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but he looked at you with that rare kind of softness that was reserved only for you.

You tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, and let your thoughts wander. It really was wild, how different everything felt now. How not long ago, he was the quiet, brooding guy in the corner, the one everyone called grumpy. The one who barely spoke to anyone.

And now?

Now he was the one who kept your toothbrush in his drawer. Who ordered your dessert without asking. Who kissed you like it was the only language he knew.

“Y’know,” you said softly, “you haven’t been that grumpy lately.”

He hummed, eyes closed again. “Don’t need to be. Not when I’ve got you.”

You felt your chest squeeze, your smile turning soft and full of something deeper.

“Guess the new girl fixed the grump,” you teased gently.

He smirked, eyes cracking open. “Nah. She just gave him something to smile about.”

You leaned up and kissed him, slow and sweet – no rush, no pressure. Just love. Real and full and steady.

And as the morning light spilled gently through the curtains, you stayed right there in his arms, knowing that this wasn’t the end of your story.

It was just the beginning.

--

Masterlist

Thank you guys so much for the love on this series!!!! I appreciate you all so much! I loved writing this, but I decided it was time to wrap it up...I have so much more in store for you all though!

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat @iyskgd @ohdrey89 @death-in-love @herejustforbuckybarnes @whitewolfluvr @violetpassionfruit @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @silas-aeiou @avengemepercy @starstruckfirecat @yehfitoormera @ifilwtmfc @navs-bhat @buckysgirl-12 @comfitchaotic @youknownothingjohnwatson @rnurse-kole

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 23

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22

1.4k words

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

--------

You could tell just how much Zen was holding himself back. He helped you undress and carefully set your new clothes aside, knowing that there would be hell to pay from Bira and Hoonti if he damaged them. His hands were shaking where they rested on your waist and he was breathing hard while he paused to look you over and just take in every detail.

Without saying anything he lifted you up with ease and sat on the edge of the low dresser. As he stood between your spread legs he pulled your hips against his and you could feel every twitch and throb of his erection against you.

You could not resist running your hands up under his shirt, just touching him anyway you could. He took that as a hint and quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head and tossed it aside. Softly you kissed along his chest and stomach, paying careful attention to the deeper scars scattered across his skin and enjoying the soft sighs between his moans.

He continued to grind against you. At this height with you on the dresser his erection was rubbing right against your clit and you felt the ache between your legs.

This was much more forward than he had been before and you were pretty sure that you liked it. For all of his reputation and status Zen was never a dominate or aggressive person, not the sort you would have expected for a war hero or avatar of a god. Instead he was gentle in everything he did, fussing over you before ever even beginning to think about himself, careful to always respect your boundaries and never make you uncomfortable if he could help it. He was not the man you expected to marry in any sense, but that did not matter. You really could not imagine getting luckier in an arranged marriage.

Your thoughts were quickly banished when Zen took a step back, this time causing you to whine from the sudden lack of friction between your legs. You watched him closely as he undid his pants, letting your eyes drift downward. You figured he was probably proportionate for someone of his height, but even so that was a lot more than you were used to. His tip was more tapered than a humans and had less of a pronounced head, though you knew even midway up that he was thick enough where you could not get you hand fully around him and the thought made the ache between your legs worse.

He did not immediately step back up to be against you, but instead leaned down to press his forehead to yours, “May I have all of you?”

The wording of his question felt right. Over the last week and a half or so you had given him parts of you, both physically and emotionally but still held quite a bit back.

Zen on the other hand was quick to give you all of himself, happily encouraging you to touch and explore him at your own pace. He had also made it clear in his confessions the other day that more than anything he wanted to be loved. The way he looked so worried when telling you, the ache in his voice when he asked if maybe one day you could love him, he was happy to give you his heart.

He had periodically reassured you that he would never ask for more than you were willing to give, and he was asking for a lot right now, but he was right; it was not more than you were willing to give.

You nuzzled your forehead against his, “Yes.”

The words had barely left your mouth before he scooped you up in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist without hesitation, and another needy, inelegant kiss shared between the two of you. You felt him gently lay you down on the bed, keeping as much contact with you as possible the whole time while trying to not crush you under his size.

He was massive compared to you and inadvertently pinning you under him. With his forehead still pressed against yours his tusks were on either side of your face, keeping you from from being able to turn your head or look away from him even if you wanted to.

You did not feel trapped though, instead it made you feel shielded and protected. Zen was always gentle and reassuring in everything he did, where his size and strength was intimidating initially now it was comforting.

“And you really want me? Truly?” he asked, almost sounding worried.

You reached up and tangled your hands into his hair to pull him closer and kiss his forehead before nuzzling against him, “All of you.”

There was an audible sigh as he must have been holding his breath while waiting on your answer. Any tension he had seemed to dissipate and he leaned a bit more of his weight onto you, just melting against you and purring louder than he ever had before.

He carefully began to reposition himself and used his knee to nudge your thighs farther apart. The two of you giggled as he tried to line himself up with you and kept missing and instead jabbing your thighs, it felt like being young and awkward and inexperienced all over again.

You reached down and wrapped your fingers around his cock and felt him immediately buck into your hand while you tried to guide him in. His eagerness was charming in a way, excited but not pushy, and unable to hide it.

Finally you managed to help him find your entrance and felt the goosebumps prickle your skin as he slowly pushed in. You were thankful that he was more tapered at the tip and going slowly, though it did not outweigh the fact that he was still much larger than a human.

The sounds he was making were incredible though. Little whimpers interrupted by purring, deep shuddering breaths through an open mouth, and soft moans, you had never had a partner quite so vocal.

Slowly he continued to press into you, nuzzling you almost frantically as he did, but the gentle stretch was giving way to a bit of a sting even though he was barely a couple inches in. You winced, though he did not seem to notice. You took a few deep breaths trying to steady yourself, but it was not really helping as a ‘bit of a sting’ was quickly becoming just ‘hurting’.

Zen said something softly. Something you did not catch. Something that most definitely was not in common. But that hardly mattered now.

You let out a yelp when he gave a bit of an excited thrust that made him stop in his tracks. Quickly he pulled his face away from yours and was looking over you in a panic.

“What happened? Are you alright?” he blurted out.

“You’re umm…a bit much to handle” you awkwardly began, “I mean, you tower over humans.”

He looked back at you, taking a few moments to process what you meant before speaking, “Oh.”

Carefully he clamored off of you to lay at your side but did not try to pull you against himself or anything.

“I am sorry” he said.

“It’s ok, it was just an accident. We both just got a bit too excited”. You rolled onto your side to face him and give him a smile to try to reassure him.

“I was worried about this.”

“Worried? About what?”

“Hurting you.”

“I promise you it’s fine, it was an accident. And why were you worried about it?”

“Because you are so much smaller than a troll, and that has made me worry that maybe it would not be possible…” he trailed off.

“And would it matter if it wasn’t possible?”

“Of course not” he finally reached out to you to pull you closer to himself, “Whatever is possible is more than enough.”

“Then we go slow, and maybe warm up next time” you pressed a few soft kisses against his chest and could feel how his heart still was racing. You loved how the scent of incense always lingered on his skin.

--------

Part 24

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen @krayziee @zaqnette @emonatural191 @lets-imagineastory @lovingbadguys @after-laughter-come-tears @plathsotherib @nogoatsnoglori

(Sometimes mobile fights me when tagging people, apologies if it didn’t work!)

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 20)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death, sex, anal, double penetration, fingering.

Word Count: 3539

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19)

_________________________________________

Day 196

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You sleep later than you normally do, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the two, warm bodies on either side of you, caressing and holding and kissing you in reassurance throughout the night, or if it’s because of the fluffiest, softest bed you’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping on—yes, even before the world went to absolute shit. Perhaps it’s because there’s no worries about the undead crawling into your bed and tearing into your flesh in a tasty midnight snack, though you did wake in the early hours of the morning with Cassian down between your knees, ravaging your cunt like you were the antidote to all his needs. Whatever kept you tucked safely in a deep slumber, when you wake up the next morning, you feel like an entirely new person.

The downside is that you wake up alone.

You squint against the sun creeping in through the small, frosted windows of the basement room you, Cassian, and Azriel stumbled into post-shower for a second round of fun. They both exhausted you in the most blissful way. You can still feel their hands on your body, trailing down your spine, caressing between your thighs, poking, prodding, petting. You have the marks to prove that last night wasn’t just the best dream you’ve had in your entire life.

You roll over, body aching in the best way. You shove your face into Azriel’s pillow to hide your grin. The fabric smells like the soap you all shared in the shower, but somehow the scent suits Azriel perfectly. Musky. Metallic like fresh rain. A sharp sting of midnight.

You take your time properly getting up. You find extra clothes in the dresser by the door. A t-shirt that’s a size too big, and you opt to wear a pair of men’s boxers you found in the top drawer. You need to assess the state of your jeans and you’re sure they won’t be pretty. Maybe you and your group will stay long enough that you can wash your clothes and leave them to dry before you make your next move, whatever that may be.

You could scrounge in your pack for your spare set of clothes, but you’re still clinging to the daze of the night to bother. Hopefully, no one recognizes the clothes you borrowed as their own.

You trail up the stairs, following the sound of soft murmuring. Rhysand hadn’t woken you during the night, so you assume that there has been no change in Feyre’s state. You will check on her first thing when you make it upstairs.

A pang of guilt stabs you in the chest. While you were fooling around with Cassian and Azriel, your best friend was lying comatose on the dining room table with a bite on her arm and an infection crawling in her veins.

She’s okay, you remind yourself. She’s immune.

Whatever that might mean.

Your eyes connect with Azriel’s when you round the corner into the living room, his hazel eyes drag down your body in a leisurely sweep that makes you blush and your body heat. You’d grab him by the collar of his fresh, gray shirt—a color you’ve never seen him in, but he looks mighty delectable in—if you didn’t have an audience.

Cassian sits on the couch beside Azriel. He’s shirtless, like he couldn’t be bothered to dig around in a drawer or his pack for a shirt. Your mind wanders to an image of something more domestic, where he’d tend to his gardens on the weekend while you sat on the porch, a book in your lap that you couldn’t concentrate on because of the skin of his muscular, gleaming back in the sunlight. Azriel would be there, too, beside you with his computer on his lap. Maybe he’d be booking a surprise vacation for the three of you or ordering you chocolates because Cassian doesn’t like receiving flowers. For someone who spends most of his time elbow deep in dirt, it’s the pretty, frilly flowers that flare his allergies.

You’re snapped from your daydream when Cassian raises his hands to you, waving you over. You swear that your cheeks turn a deeper shade of red at the motion. He wants you to sit in his lap. You want to sit in his lap, but you need to check on Feyre, first.

She lies splayed out on the couch, eyes closed, mouth parted. Her chest rises and falls evenly enough for your shoulders to drop a little in relief.

You check her pulse. It’s steady albeit slightly weaker than it should be. Then, you carefully unwrap the wound, cringing when the gauze tries desperately to cling to the remnants of dried blood.

The stench hits you first. It wafts from the wound like putrid death. Your lungs constrict and your stomach revolts. You barely hold yourself back from slapping a hand over your mouth and nose, barely hold back from getting sick. You don’t need to be known for doing throwing up more than once in this nice home. You have a feeling that Nesta wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asks, worried. He springs from the couch, Azriel and Rhysand going still behind him, their quiet conversation cutting off abruptly as their attention latches onto you. Rhysand looks like he’s about to vault from the sofa to your side. His violet eyes blaze with worry, his brows furrowed deeply, even when you wave off the men in your group.

“It’s fine,” you reassure, reveling in the warmth of the hand Cassian plants on your lower back. You want to lean into him, but you revert your attention to your friend. “I just didn’t expect the smell,” you admit, carefully breathing shallow breaths through your teeth as you examine the day-old bite.

It looks like any other wound, minus the black, spidering veins that crawl up her arm. They taper off near her elbow, where you assume her white blood cells are working overtime to battle the infection. From what you’ve seen of Elain’s mark, it will take weeks for the wound to fully heal, but you fear the new color of her veins that peek from beneath her skin are here to stay.

You take another pass at it with expired peroxide. The wound bubbles minimally, and you slather on some of the antibiotic ointment that Lucien gave that he mentioned helped Elain’s bite. Hers has been healing slowly but steadily and only scabbing remains.

Feyre mumbles something under her breath when you swipe the ointment against her skin. It’s incoherent, something you don’t catch, but it has Rhys rising off the couch and crossing the room in the span of seconds. He caresses her face gently, whispering soothing words to her. It’s a scene too intimate for you to watch, so you quickly avert your attention to re-wrapping her arm.

Once you’ve finished and checked her temperature with the back of your palm, you allow Cassian to pull you back toward the couch, even tug you into his lap. You settle as much as you can, which proves to be difficult with the way that his cock twitches beneath your ass when you squirm, trying to readjust.

Cassian’s hands clamp down on your hips, keeping you still. You can’t help but peek over your shoulder at him with a teasing smile twitching at your lips. His eyes are alight with the promise of his cock between your legs again, and you can’t help but wonder where and when. This very sofa? Bent over the counter in the kitchen? Up against the barn you saw out back?

You clear your throat very carefully. “What were you talking about?”

The relaxation from the morning quickly dims as the horrors of the world creep back up as you stare at your best friend. A sour feeling twists your stomach. You’ve both been through so much, and you always knew it was a possibility that something like this could happen, but you never allowed the thought take root in your mind.

“We were discussing our next move,” Azriel fills you in, straight to the point as always. His arms are crossed over his chest, and you ache to reach your hand out to him, see if he’s willing to hold your hand. With the emotion that crosses his features, something hard-set and annoyed, you refrain. “So far, Rhys and Cassian think we should stay.”

“And you don’t?” you question.

“Do you?” He counters, carefully.

Azriel allows you to see the vulnerability in his hazel eyes. For a second it’s there, then is replaced by that stoic mask he’s perfected. He wants your honest opinion, and unfortunately, it’s all too easy to sift through the pros of being here to reach the reasons that you shouldn’t stay.

Your silence permeates the air. The men give you time to think, but after a few minutes of silence, the tension in the air thickens.

“What is it?” Rhys breaks the silence, studying you intently. You busy yourself with playing with Cassian’s fingers, but even he twists his hand around and grips yours tightly, stilling your movements.

You eye Feyre on the sofa for a long moment while you gather your thoughts. Her chest rises and falls in a steady motion, and for that you’re thankful.

“It’s just…” you trail off, squeezing Cassian’s hand for reassurance. You peer over at Rhys, then Azriel, and Cassian behind you. “Doesn’t this all seem a little too good to be true? It feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Cassian leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple that warms you to your toes.

You melt into him, chasing the feeling of his lips on your skin. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he murmurs, and goosebumps breakout across your skin at the sentiment. “Leave the worrying to us.”

And Godsdamn, if that isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard in your short-lived life.

But you’ve never been one to not worry.

You risk a glance at Azriel, who stares at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You blush under the intensity of his stoic features, and heat floods between your thighs. His fingers creep along the cushion of the couch and find yours. You hold on tightly.

“This is the best position we’ve been in in months,” Rhys says with a sigh. He looks exhausted, and maybe you can offer to stay by Feyre’s side while he cleans up and gets some rest. He rubs a hand across his jaw. “We found her sisters, which has been her goal from the start, has it not?” He asks, looking at you.

It’s true. Feyre has finally been reunited with her sisters, even if she doesn’t know it yet. It’s all you’ve wanted for her, too, but there’s something about how protected their group has been behind these gates that has you wondering. How were they so prepared for the end of the world? You know Eris mentioned something about his father, but something isn’t adding up right here.

“It is,” you agree, then shrug. “Maybe I’m wrong.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Azriel reassures you. “Make sure we don’t slip up. At the first sign of trouble, we’re gone.”

To whom the hell knows where goes unsaid.

The five of you sit in silence, all lost in your own thoughts. Cassian’s hand trails soothingly up and down your arm, and you feel like you could fall right back asleep against his chest.

“What are we doing today?” You ask, trying to keep your eyes open. It’s difficult, but you don’t want to spend any longer sleeping the day away, especially with the was the sun pours through the windows.

“Eris is going to show me the gardens today,” Cassian says, and you smile at the excitement in his voice. This is what he’s been searching for, of course he would want to stay and begin his garden. It’ll benefit everyone, and maybe helping will make you feel less like a freeloader in this luxurious home. “When he gets back from a supply run with Nesta.”

“And you?” You ask Rhys.

“I’m staying right here until Feyre wakes up,” he says, and your heart swells at the adoration in his eyes for your friend. She needs to wake up more than ever.

“No offense, Rhys,” you say, and wrinkle your nose for effect. “You need to shower. You reek.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve smelled worse.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to,” you counter. “I’ll stay with her, you know. She’ll be okay.”

He looks weary but eventually nods and takes his leave, moving quickly, like every moment spent apart from Feyre is a pain like no other.

Looking between Cassian and Azriel, you agree with the sentiment.

The back door opens, carrying Eris and Nesta’s voices along with it. They’re home from their trip and before you can move from Cassian’s lap to ask if they need assistance with anything, Nesta emerges from the hall, striding toward her sister like she’s on a mission.

It’s instinct to rip yourself from your seat, to protect Feyre, but Nesta’s only checking her temperature the same way you did a few minutes ago. She’s just worried about her sister, you remind yourself, trying to calm your racing heart.

Eris appears in the doorway, amber eyes tracking Nesta before latching onto Cassian’s. “You ready for that tour?”

Cassian stands, planting you on your feet. Nesta slips from the room, brushing past Eris with a brush of their fingers, most likely to check on her other sister. Cassian meets Eris at the door, Cassian listening eagerly to every word Eris says as he’s lead back to the rear door of the home.

“Why don’t you go with Cassian and Eris,” Azriel suggests softly, brushing a longing touch down your arm.

You can’t help that your gaze flickers back to Feyre. You already feel guilty for abandoning her for a shower and sex with not one but two men. You shouldn’t leave her alone now. What if she wakes up? What if something happens and you’re not around to help?

“I’ll watch her.” Azriel’s voice draws your attention. “I promise.”

“Okay,” you agree reluctantly. Azriel rewards you with a short and sweet kiss that holds the promise of more. You almost chase him, almost wrap your arms around his neck to keep his mouth pressed firmly against yours. You almost whine when he straightens, hazel eyes glowing with mischief, a barely-there smile tilting the corners of his mouth just enough that your breath catches in your chest.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You didn’t realize how much there was to talk about plants.

Seriously, you don’t think you’ve understood a single word Cassian and Eris are talking about. Of course, Cassian would have questions, you just didn’t think that Eris would have answers, but he does, even the ones to your boyfriends most obscure queries.

But with the way that Cassian eagerly drinks in every word Eris says is too adorable to miss. He hasn’t let go of your hand since you joined Eris on the back porch, Cassian excitedly squeezes it every time he hears something he likes. His hazel eyes glitter with joy, and your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest with happiness.

The garden shed is smaller than the barn but well organized. You spot the tops of carrots, cabbage, even strawberries. Sunlight streams through the glass roof and there’s a doorway that leads to the outside part of the garden, which you have yet to walk through. It’s massively impressive, positioned far enough away from the fences that you wonder if whoever selected this spot knew about what was to come.

Your stomach growls, so loudly that it interrupts the conversation Eris and Cassian are engrossed in. Both men stop to peer down at you, their eyes glittering with amusement.

“Sorry,” your face blushes hot and you shrink in your spot.

Cassian chuckles and tugs you into his chest with ease. He seems the most relaxed of the group, being here, and you wish that some of that feeling would rub off on you, but it hasn’t yet. There’s still a mass of uncertainty in the bottom of your gut.

Eris takes a few steps away, giving you and Cassian some privacy.

“Why don’t you go find some lunch?” he asks, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is tender, eyes soft and happy, and you want to throw your arms around his neck and kiss the daylights out of him, taste a little bit of that sunshine that radiates from his smile. “I’ll be in after we finish up here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he bends down and pecks you on the mouth. You pout when he pulls away and a deep laugh rumbles Cassian’s chest. You wanted a longer kiss, a much longer one. “Go on, get your lunch,” he whispers. A shiver drags up your spine, trailing that path Cassian’s teasing fingers make. “We have all night for kisses, sweetheart.”

You read the promise in his eyes. Something coils pleasurably between your legs, and the urge to grab Cassian’s hands and press it against your core is strong, but you are in company. You glance at Eris who peers down at his shoes, offering you what little privacy there is in the small greenhouse.

Your gaze flickers back to Cassian, drinking in his wicked grin. You swallow hard and manage to say your goodbyes, trailing out of the garden shed. Maybe if Rhys is back at his post by Feyre, you can convince Azriel for an afternoon quickie.

The sun beams across your shoulders as you make your way toward the large house. You can the yard, drinking in the scenery. It’s an entirely different world. Like the apocalypse isn’t real within the gates of the Vanserra mansion. They have a well-fortified home, food, weapons, clean water, medical supplies…it truly is an anomaly, which is why you think that there must be something wrong.

Your gaze snags on the barn. It’s painted a rusty orange color. There’s a wrought-iron crest above the barn doors, the Vanserra crest. It’s a shield split into four sections. In the top-left, there’s a leaf, falling from a tree. Beside it is a rapier, and you wonder what the story behind each section of the crest is. Vines wrap around the edges of the shield, and the bottom-left icon is a silhouette of a man and a woman holding hands. Huh, you wonder. Maybe you’ll ask Lucien what they mean.

The icon on the bottom-right has fallen off, and even though you squint, you can’t make out the shape of the sun-faded mark.

You take a detour for a better look. You wouldn’t mind peeking into the barn to see the animals as well. You know they have chickens, because that’s what you’ve been eating for most meals, but you wonder if there are horses or cows or goats. You’d take joy in seeing a living, breathing animal.

You’re a few feet from the barn door when Lucien appears, calling your name. Your head snaps to the side, where he’s approaching with an easy grin. You relax, but your heart continues to race at the scare.

“There you are,” he says, stopping a few feet between you and the barn. “I was looking for you, wanted to invite you to lunch with Nesta, Elain, and I.” He gives you an easy smile, one that you return.

Lucien nods to the back porch where Nesta and Elain sit at the long table. Elain looks livelier today. There’s more color to her face and a soft smile on her face as she speaks to her sister.

“How is she doing?” You ask, relenting as your stomach growls at the mention of food. Seeing the animals can wait.

“Better today,” Lucien admits, staring admiringly at his girlfriend. Your chest aches at the love he has for her in his eyes. If something like that had happened to Cassian or Azriel, you’re not sure you’d survive.

Your eyes fall on Nesta, and the hair at the nape of your neck stands tall. Her sharp, silver gaze is pinned on you. Her features are set in neutral, but her stare still burns with each step you take closer to the house. It’s a feeling that you certainly haven’t gotten used to yet.

“Are Azriel and Rhys joining us?” you ask. There’s something about sitting with the three of them alone that’s unsettling you, and you don’t know what it is. You’d prefer to have one of your friends with you, and you assure yourself that it’s because the last time any of you have split up, things haven’t ended well. “I believe they were in the middle of a heated discussion when I went to invite them earlier, but I will check again,” Lucien explains, and pulls out a chair. The metal legs screech against the stone deck and you cringe. “Here, take a seat and dig in. I’ll be right back.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace @aemondsb1tch @chxosangxl @marigold-morelli @w0nderw0manly

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (18/18)

(A/N: Just a quick thanks for all the love you guys have shown this fic! Means a lot! Love ya!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: A happily ever after with your dragon.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Child birth.

Length: 2k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

Read on AO3

The flight back to your kingdom was long and Sylus did not stop until you were across the border. At that point you had told him to land near a stream. He didn’t question why, just dropped down as soon as he spotted some water.

“Are you alright?” he asked for the tenth time. “Do you need a rest? Something to drink? Eat?”

“No. I am fine.” you looked at him now, still covered head to toe in copious amounts of blood. It soaked into his hair and his skin. Every inch of him was died the same crimson as his eyes. “But you need to clean that off.”

Sylus looked down at himself and nodded. You gestured to the stream and he started washing the blood away. You tore off a piece of your skirt hem and dunked it into the water and wiped at his face.

You remembered being sat in the room underground when you heard the bells and alarms ringing. You had know immediately it was Sylus. The unending screams of pain and fear only confirmed it. Then that fucking general had come in to try and take you away, to try and threaten Sylus into letting him live, but his efforts were in vain. They had all died. Sylus ripped every last one of them to shreds just to get back to you.

You had been surprised for a moment when instead of the Sylus you knew a full dragon had busted in through the door. But you knew it was your dragon the second you saw him. He was large, black and red scaled armor with silver horns and spines down his back. His eyes were the same kind of molten red you had seen from Tengya on the beach, as if instead of eyes two pools of magma churned in his pupils. And all that you could think of was how happy you were to see him.

He was back to his normal form now, albeit completely naked, but that hardly mattered. Soon you would be home and all of this would be nothing but a horrible nightmare. You couldn’t wait that long to get this blood off though. So you helped him clean, wiping whatever blood you could off of him. Scooping water into your hands and scrubbing it out of his hair until it was silver again.

He reclined against you, staring up at your face. “I am so sorry.” he said. “I should never have left. They never should have been able to take you. This was all my fault.”

“No. It was not your fault, Sylus.”

“I left you. I left you all alone. I should have taken you to the village at the very least. I was insane to leave you by yourself.”

“Sylus--”

“What if they had hurt you worse than they did? What if they had done something to our child? I would never forgive myself. If…if the worse had happened…” tears cut rivers down his cheeks, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Then don’t.” you hugged him. “I am safe. Our baby is safe. What is done is done. We cannot change it. But you ensured that no one would ever come to harm us again and that is good enough for me.”

“I love you. I do.” he turned to face you fully, “I love you more than anything and I swear this will never happen again. I will defend you, body and soul with everything that I am.”

“Sylus…”

“You, the family we are growing, is my entire life. I love you both so much and I do not know what forces in the world allowed me to have you but I will thank them every day.” he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too. I will love you forever and no matter what happens, I will always be here by your side. No force from the heavens, hells or this material world will take me from you. I promise.” You brought him close, kissing him tenderly. “I love you, Sylus. I will always love you.”

You sat there by the stream, half covered in blood and crying as you held one another. You were safe. You were together. That was all that mattered.

~~~

Sylus was anxious. He didn’t get anxious a lot but he was anxious as he stood pacing back and forth outside the room you were giving birth in. The women helping you had insisted it wasn’t a place for the men to enter and Sylus wanted to be respectful but with every pained cry that came from you on the other side of the door his agitation grew.

“You’re going to drive a rut into the floor.” your father warned him. “She’s in good hands. She and the baby will be fine.”

“I should be in there.” Sylus snapped. “Why can I not be?”

“Well, for one, your tail hasn’t stopped swishing like an angry cat’s. You’d probably hit someone or knock something over.” he explained, “But it is just how things are done. The women handle the birth, we cut the umbilical cord after they’re out.”

Every instinct in Sylus was telling him to get in the room. He needed to protect you. Protect you from what, he had no idea. But he felt so helpless and useless out here!

There was another loud cry from inside and Sylus snapped to the door. That was it! He wasn’t staying out here!

He opened the door to find you knelt on the floor. You looked up and smiled in relief, holding a hand out for him. “Sylus,”

He knelt next to you, “Right here. I’m right here.”

“He shouldn’t be--” one of the women tried to say.

“No! Don’t leave!” you squeezed his hand, “Please don’t leave!”

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.” Sylus shot a glare at the others, daring them to try and remove him. The others shrugged and went back to what they were doing.

“It hurts.” you muttered through clenched teeth. “It really fucking hurts!”

“I know. I know it does, little bird.” he wiped the sweat from your brow. “But it’ll be worth it. We’ll have our little one soon, you just have to endure it for a little longer.”

“Can’t believe I let you do this to me!” you snapped. “I hope you never have another rut!” He figured you were talking out of pain and didn’t mean what you were saying.

One of the women got behind you. “Alright, you’re ready. Time to start pushing. Deep breath, your body knows what to do. Gravity is gonna help us get this baby out quick.”

After several long tense minutes of you holding onto him for dear life, screaming and whimpering in pain as you pushed, the baby was out. A different kind of scream filled the air as your child took its first breath.

“You have a daughter.” the woman holding the baby said. “A perfectly healthy baby girl.”

Sylus cut the umbilical cord with his claw and let them wipe the baby off a bit before settling her in your arms. “She’s beautiful.” you were crying. The moment the baby’s head rested on your chest her cries stilled into little whimpers.

“Most gorgeous things I’ve ever seen.” Sylus couldn’t believe what he was looking at. This tiny thing was yours? They looked so normal, so human. “Hello, my heart,” he said. He receded the claws on his hands so he could hold her. “If you aren’t the most perfect thing in this world I do not want to know what could be better.”

“She is so little…” you cooed. “And she looks so human.”

“I told you she would. But make no mistake, this is a strong and fearsome dragon. That reminds me,” Sylus pulled a small jar out of his pocket. Inside was a small portion of the salve he had gotten from Tengya. He spread a small patch on the baby’s chest.

Once you had enough time alone, just Sylus, you, and the baby you began to let in the others.

“There’s my grandchild.” your father walked in. He came over and kissed your forehead. “You did so well, sweet pea.”

“Thanks papa.” you smiled. “Isn’t she the most precious thing?”

“That she is. So, did you two have a name picked out?” he asked.

“Selene.” you said. Your baby opened her eyes for the first time and you got a shock of brilliant red eyes, just like her father. You smiled, kissing her downy head. “Our little moon flower.”

~~~

As the years passed your family grew. You had two beautiful little girls and a third on the way. You were sitting at the mouth of the cave watching as Sylus was teaching Selene how to fly. Her wings had grown in fully and ever since there was not a moment she was on the ground. Your younger was sitting with you stewing in jealousy that she couldn’t go flying with them.

“Mama!” Ruby whined, “I want to go flying too! When will my wings grow in?”

“It will happen soon enough.” you assured her, “Besides, growing wings isn’t great. It’s really itchy and your back gets all scabby. Kinda like your horns did when they started growing, remember that? Don’t be in such a hurry.”

She crossed her arms and continued to pout until Sylus and Selene touched back down. “Did you see me mama!” Selene came running up to you. “I was flying all by myself!”

“I know! You did so well, sweetie!” you hugged her. “You’re getting to be real good.”

“She’s a natural.” Sylus came up and ruffled her hair. “Soon enough you’ll be flying circles around me.”

“Daddy!” your younger one yelled at him, “I want to fly too!”

“Ruby,” you warned, “Don’t yell. Ask nicely next time you want to go flying.”

Her frown deepened. “Mama’s a meanie!”

“I’m not being mean--”

“Meanie!”

“Hey,” Sylus snapped at her. “That’s not very nice to say. Your mama is just trying to teach you to be polite and now you’ve gone and hurt her feelings.”

“But--”

“No buts. Apologize to your mama and maybe I’ll take you out for a flight.” Sylus turned her around and pushed her towards you.

“I’m sorry mama.” she said, staring down at the ground. “Can I go flying now?”

“I forgive you, sweetie. But dinner should be finished cooking soon so maybe after you eat.”

“Oh, I think we have time for a quick flight around the mountain.” Sylus picked her up and put her on his shoulders.

“Sylus--”

Before you could object he jumped off the side of the mountain and flew up high, your daughter roaring with joyous laughter the entire time. You looked over at Selene who watched them with burning jealousy. You sighed. “Go on. Make sure your father and sister don’t stay out too long. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.”

“Will do mama!” Selene beamed and flew to join the others, albeit it a little slower and more awkwardly. She was getting there though.

You pulled yourself out of your chair and wandered back to the kitchen to check on the food. It was hard to believe it some days. Waking up with Sylus next to you, the girls running in to see you the moment they woke up.

It was hard to get alone time with those two tornadoes running around but there were days you sent them down to the village to stay with your father or their Auntie Tara. They were so full of life and joy. You couldn’t wait to have another even if you knew three of these little monsters was going to be exhausting.

Much like Sylus had said when you were pregnant with Selene, the girls were born looking exactly like humans but as they got older more dragon like features started to grow. Selene had horns and wings and her father’s bright red eyes, but so far no claws. Ruby though almost immediately started sprouting a tail which Selene didn’t have and was starting to grow in her horns. She wouldn’t have to worry about wings for about two more years, if she grew them at all.

You traced a hand over your stomach. You wondered what this one would be like. Maybe it’d be a boy this time.

A few minutes later Sylus and the girls came running back in, their faces windstung and bright. The girls immediately went to setting the table and Sylus walked over to you, hugging you from behind. “Smells good.” he said.

“Thanks. I decided to try this new recipe Tara gave me.” you gave the pot another stir.

“Wasn’t talking about the food.” he whispered before pulling your face towards his for a kiss.

“Ew! Daddy! Stop that!” Selene said. “You’re being gross!”

“I’m showing your mother how much I love her. What’s gross about that?” he shot back. “You two go clean up before you start eating.”

The girls ran out of the room leaving you alone. “Very subtle.” you elbowed him lightly. “I’m already pregnant, you can’t put another kid in me yet.”

“I know. But it is never a waste to practice.” his hands ran over the bump in your belly. “Just six more of these to go.”

“One more!” you elbowed him harder this time. “I have told you a hundred times I’m not popping out nine kids.”

“I can’t help it.” he spun you around, “You know how dragons like to hoard treasure.”

“Our kids are treasure now?”

He smiled softly, holding you close. “Of course. The most precious in the world, right next to you.”

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 5

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Bepo

Captain! Captain!

Bepo, Penguin and Shachi tail Law as he stomps through the deck of the ship in a rush.

Bepo

CAPTAIN!!! Is the Pirate King seriously sailing with us?!

Penguin

I don’t think it’s a good idea. Did you see the townsquare? Have you not heard the stories?!

Law

Yes, yes and no. So everyone, stay out of his way. If there’s trouble, don’t deal with it by yourselves. Tell me or the swordsman.

Shachi

But which–

Law

The other, swordsman. Bepo, call everyone in for a briefing in five.

At that, Law vanishes inside the ship, leaving the trio to stand by idly at the doorway.

The three Heart Pirates hear a couple of thuds on the wooden deck. Nervously, they turn in unison to see who it was.

Zoro and Sanji stood by the edge, having just boarded the submarine. The swordsman had his arms crossed, looking at the distant water with his calm demeanor while the blonde waves at the trio with a cheerful smile across his face as a greeting.

The Heart Pirates’ cheeks flush pink. They give Sanji a shy wave in return. The Pirate King's smile clearly has infected them.

Shachi

He doesn't look that bad….

Penguin

Y–yeah…I don't know what the captain was talking about. He's not scary at all.

—

Bepo, Penguin and Shachi are in tears having just learned a small list of Sanji's most recent crimes from Law. The entire Heart Pirates crew sat on the round table in the ship’s galley with their two guests to discuss the mission ahead, but the doctor felt that introductions were in order first.

In truth, Law just wants his people to be extremely cautious of the most dangerous cargo that they’ve ever had on board. He wants to emphasize how serious the situation is so he nabbed Sanji’s file from the Marine base to share its contents to the entire crew.

Sanji sipped his tea calmly, quietly enjoying the conversation about himself, basking in all the attention and reactions that the Heart Pirates are giving him. He soaks it in, feeling smug about having his achievements read out to everyone. 

Zoro sat next to him, finally able to enjoy a bottle of sake for himself. None of the information being relayed by Law is news to him, having been involved in more than half of Sanji’s escapades on the receiving end. He’d been trying to kill the man for more than a couple of decades after all.

Law

Did…did you guys already forget that he just slaughtered all those Marines?

Zoro

You're one to talk, Traffy. You did the same thing when he said he'd help you.

Law

Shut up….

Sanji turns his head towards the doctor. 

Sanji

Did you really? That's a bit funny.

Bepo

But…but Captain, shouldn't he be detained then?

Sanji gives the polar bear an icy glare.

Bepo’s full body of fur stands on end. Penguin, Shachi and himself hug each other tighter, yelling out cries for help.

Law

There's no point. Detaining him is how we lose our ship. The Marines tried to cuff him and now their entrails are all over the place as a consequence. Just keep an eye on him and do what I told you earlier. Report anything suspicious, is that clear?

Heart Pirates

Yes, Captain!

With that, Law proceeds to brief everyone in the room about the plan to follow Corazon’s trail to Skypiea, and that the Pirate King will be assisting them during their journey and the next until they find Corazon or whoever’s behind the letters. The doctor announces that they will have to stop by Sabaody Archipelago first which is the closest place where they can get a decent portable bubble ship, unless they find an alternative way to safely transport people up in the sky that could withstand the terrifying knock up streams that lead up to it. He makes a point to thank Zoro for his insight as to what’s to be expected given that he’d been to the sky island already.

Zoro

Our former navigator should have a decent map drawn of the country already. At least the places where we've been to anyway, which was most of it. If you think that will help, I'll need a long-distant transponder snail to ask her for a copy. And potentially half a million Beri. She doesn't give away stuff for free, even to her own nakama.

Law

What the hell? I don't have that kind of money. Can’t you get a discount if you’re nakama?

Zoro

N–no…if I use that as an excuse she’ll probably just charge me more. Hey Curls, aren’t you king or something? You’d have the dough and some.

Sanji

Do you see large amounts of gold on me? I don’t carry that much treasure around, stupid. Unless you want me to be traced, I’d rather not withdraw Beri from a bank.

Law

We’ll have to do some fundraising in Sabaody then. Penguin, please show Zoro-ya our communications room after this briefing.

Penguin

Yes, Captain.

Law proceeds to lay out the plan, covering the less exciting details like the estimated duration of the voyage, food stock and potential jobs that they can do on the side for Beri. It will inevitably cost them more time than the doctor had anticipated, but they may not have any choice in the matter. He prays that they miraculously run into any one of Sanji’s contacts who just so happen to be carrying his gold around.

Sanji leans slightly towards Zoro and softly speaks so only he can hear him.

Sanji

Your navigator sounds like a smart lady, by the way. And the price is reasonable, given its rarity and how difficult it is to get to the island. The more I learn about your old crew, the more I wish I got to meet them.

Zoro gives a light-hearted chuckle then speaks just as quietly.

Zoro

Well, if you weren't such a murderous bastard, you might have actually gotten along with them.

Sanji

You think so? Do you think that I can meet them one day?

Zoro

Over my dead body.

After the briefing, the Heart Pirates return to their respective duties except for Penguin who waits for Zoro and Sanji at the door as ordered to take them to the communications room so the swordsman can contact his navigator friend.

On their way out, Sanji makes very brief eye contact with a large man that they call Jean Bart, who slightly nods his way, almost to a bow, before walking off in the opposite direction. Zoro makes a mental note of their interaction.

—

The trip to Sabaody Archipelago is going as smoothly as they had hoped, having only done a couple of stops here and there to stock up and stretch their legs. Zoro and Sanji quickly realise that it is absolutely necessary to go on long walks and exercise whenever they can given how often they get stuck indoors so the sub can dive deep in the water to avoid unwanted attention. Then there’s the matter of their sleeping arrangements.

The Polar Tang’s bunk rooms aren’t anything special. They’re small and cramped where the mattresses are contained in boxes similar to that of the Thousand Sunny Go except that it’s welded firmly against the wall instead of being suspended by ropes. Zoro and Sanji shared a room so the swordsman could keep an eye on him. He also insisted that he gets to keep the bottom bunk in case he finds a reason to skewer the curly brows above him for any reason.

Much to Zoro’s surprise, Sanji keeps to himself while in their shared room, only ever tearing his eyes away from the book that he’s reading to ask if he feels like doing an activity together, or to tell him where he wants to go so the swordsman can follow along. He’d even wake him up to make sure he knows where he’s going if he wants to wander around. Aside from that, Zoro notices that Sanji had taken a lot of liking to just quietly watch the view from their round window, especially when they go underwater.

The crew were extremely tense during the first three days of having Sanji on board but by the fifth day, they had invited him over for a game night on one of their few and precious days off. Zoro assumed that the Pirate King had somehow captured their hearts while he’s not looking.

None of the Heart Pirates had any real money in their name so Sanji proposed that they bargain with chores, volunteering to even take a few from each one to make himself useful in the ship while they’re travelling and to even the odds of the play.

Zoro sat at the furthest table in the mess hall, quietly enjoying a tankard of beer to himself while watching their game unfold into a messy havoc of drunken fun. He watches big smiles across everyone’s faces as the Pirate King tosses in another straight flush–his sixth in a row. The victim this time is the poor Clione who apparently has to fold clothes for two weeks.

After seeing the man melt into despair, Sanji opens the palms of his hands, revealing four extra cards that had been hiding in his sleeves. Everyone laughed at Clione, then at Sanji for confessing that he had been swapping cards around to his advantage. This means that the blonde has to take the laundry chore from Clione, and with a longer duration of four weeks for cheating. They joke about keeping the king as a chore boy, even after the mission is finished.

Sanji and the Heart Pirates were like that through the rest of night. It was as though the blonde’s just an ordinary human being who’s trying to have a good time with his friends. Zoro couldn’t help but smile to himself after seeing a particularly hearty grin from Sanji's face. He wonders what about the man that makes his smile so contagious.

Again, to Zoro’s surprise, the Pirate King stays true to his word and begins to spend most of his mornings folding laundry in their shared room. The Heart Pirates have taken to knocking on their door less formally, or just flat out shouting from the other side to ask if their clothes are ready for collection. Penguin had occasionally shown up just after showering, fully naked and exposed, desperately begging for a pair of his underpants because he'd forgotten to take one and a towel earlier. Sanji fusses over him like a mother hen, nagging him to be more organised next time, but proceeds to help the man anyway.

By the seventh day since setting sail, Zoro finds himself helping Sanji do laundry. They fall into a comfortable silence, which he didn’t realise was possible at all. Though sometimes they share a small banter, throw harmless snide comments, or offer to fetch each other stuff from the kitchen. There was no mention of their old life and how for two decades they had tried to relentlessly kill each other. Both are content enough to just focus on the now. It was peaceful and Zoro isn't about to question why and how this was the case.

During the afternoons, Sanji either visits the galley to catch up with whoever Heart Pirates are on break, or wanders to the library to borrow or read more books. The Polar Tang’s library is more of a shared study space but nevertheless, it’s the coziest part of the ship, given how almost every corner of the sub smells metallic or sterilisation chemicals. Most of the time, Zoro and Sanji are the only ones there given how busy everyone else is, except for Bepo who occassionally uses the nearby drafting table to chart their maps. As long as he keeps himself clean and his bottles checked, Zoro is allowed to drink in the room, away from delicate books, while Sanji delves into a variety of different topics like navigation, geography, Devil Fruits, marine life and a particularly cheap looking cooking-for-dummies book.

One lazy day, there was a knock on one of the bookshelves. Zoro and Sanji lift their heads to find Law and Bepo standing by.

Law

Zoro-ya, a word?

Zoro nods then gets up from the couch to approach the man. He notices that Bepo walks up to sit in his place happily. Him and the Pirate King share a book about deep sea fishes together. The swordsman assumes that the mink had been assigned to keep an eye on the blonde while he’s momentarily away.

Law leads him to his office, where he takes a seat then beckons the swordsman to sit at the other side of his desk. Zoro follows.

Law

I don’t think this changes anything with our mission, but I noticed something odd with the mad king’s file that you might find…interesting.

Law places the thick folder that he had stolen from the Marine base on the table–Sanji’s criminal record. Zoro takes it in his hand then flicks through the papers. He’d seen them all already. He’s a slaver who raids his competitors to steal their “stock” instead of acquiring them himself. He specialises in trading, particularly dangerous criminals–pirates and bandits alike–to sell them to bigger, badder, wealthier criminals to do their dirty work. Most of his clients and partners are corrupt politicians or individuals with private armies like Doflamingo who are in constant demand for troops. On top of that, Sanji has an endless list of serious offenses: arson, murder, stealing, a few kidnappings, warfare–the whole lot.

There’s also a simplified version of Zoro’s reports from when he actively sought out the Pirate King–it lists out where their fights had taken place, any surrounding casualties, and the conclusion of their encounter. The swordsman doesn’t particularly remember them to detail at the top of his head, but scanning through the papers relives old headache-inducing memories of their game of cat and mouse. So far they’ve been pretty even with who’s won and who didn’t.

Zoro makes a point to not kill his enemies. So every time he wins their fight, he hands Sanji over to the Marines to lock him out for life. And every time they try to transport him, he breaks out of his chains and leaves evidence of his carnage just like how he did on the island where they picked him up. Some time in the past, he’d somehow survived and killed his way out of Enies Lobby by himself before they could drag him inside the gates, making him the third person to ever break out of initial confinement after Nico Robin and Franky when his old Straw Hat crew went in to rescue them.

Zoro throws the folder back on the table. He shrugs his shoulders.

Zoro

Tell me something I don’t know.

Law leans over, then re-opens the folder, navigating to the part where the Marines have compiled copies of slave buyers’ proof of purchases and ownership records. He taps on the detailed breakdown list.

Law

He only sells other criminals.

Zoro

So? He’s still a slaver.

Law

They’re not worth a lot because they’re trouble.

Zoro

But they're plentiful. Plus he’s sold ones with Devil Fruit abilities.

Law

Which still isn’t as much as a fishman, a mermaid or a child by a long shot. They’re worth hundreds of thousands, depending who you talk to.

Zoro

So what’s your point?

Law pulls a small stack of papers from under the pile–a worryingly long list of individuals that were owned by other rival slavers. It’s a rundown of the people that they have on their inventory, referring to them as a sequence of numbers instead of their actual names. It has details of their age, race and gender.

Law

He’s acquired them, but not sold them. They just vanish when he gets a hold of them.

Zoro can feel his temper rising.

Zoro

You think he set them free? What, that he’s one of those doing-the-bad-thing-for-a-good-reason kind of person?

Law

I’m just saying…

Zoro

We don’t know what he does with them. For all we know, he saves the “best” ones for himself. Or he’s killed them.

Law

I suppose…. 

Zoro leans back on his seat, crossing his arms.

Zoro

He got to you too, didn’t he? Now you’re in love with him just like the rest of your crew and we’re barely at our first stop. He must have put the idea in your head somehow that he’s somewhat a decent man.

Law

I’m not saying he is, but I–

Zoro

He’s not. You don’t know him as well as I do. He’s probably just playing nice so he can make friends with you lot then control you somehow.

Law sighs in defeat, then takes a moment to find the right words.

Law

Zoro-ya, there’s usually more a person than meets the eye. You can’t ignore the fact that the World Government likes to hide things and embellish on some to make themselves look like gods. They’ve burnt down libraries and destroyed valuable parts of our history to make that happen. If I were you, I wouldn’t trust everything that the Celestial Dragons says.

And I think, deep inside, you know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the way you look at him.

Zoro gives Law a deathly glare, as if warning him to choose his next words carefully.

Law stands.

Law

You might want to consider your stance with him by the time we find Corazon.

But just…at least think about what I said about the Celestial Dragons, alright? I really don’t have to care about you. But as the first mate of the Straw Hat pirates, you need to consider what’s best for your crew. He may not do things the conventional way, but I think the Pirate King of the North might be one of the best allies Luffy could have right now. Especially because you wouldn't want him fighting for the other side when the time comes.

Zoro’s brows shoot up.

Zoro

Luffy? What about Luffy needing allies?

Law

Has he not spoken to you?

Zoro

No…I threw all my transponder snails away, remember?

Law sighs.

Law

Luffy plans to take on Kaido.

—

The Polar Tang finally arrives at Sabaody Archipelago. As soon as they dock the submarine in the safest and quietest grove they could find, The Heart Pirates, Zoro and Sanji practically pass out on the green grass on the giant mangroves.

Sanji

Well, fuck my ass and call me Susan. That sun is immaculate and this grass is so soft.

Shachi

I haven't heard of that one before.

Bepo 

Hey! Do you guys hear that?

Everyone listens intently. Bepo's ears twitch as he looks around, changing the angle of his head so he could determine the direction it's coming from.

Bepo

It sounds like a concert!! Or…a game show? Maybe a festival? Do you think we can check it out? I hope Uta is playing!

Penguin

I’d kill to see Soul King live.

Law finally catches up to them. He stands in the middle of the field where everyone sun bathed.

Law

You have a day. By tomorrow I want everyone focused on looking around for jobs and sourcing out a bubble ship that can fit at least ten people. I'll keep watch this round.

Everyone rejoiced at the news. They begin to stand to make most of the day.

Law

Except for you, Pirate King. You have to stay behind. Everyone knows your face, and they have giant snails here that can transmit videos.

Sanji

Hmm….

Zoro

Why did you have to tell him what to do? Now he's going to do the opposite.

Law rolls his eyes then begins to walk away.

Law

It's your job to keep an eye on him. Good luck. Call me on your den-den mushi if you need me. Don't throw it away this time.

Zoro audibly groans. He rolls onto his elbows then pushes himself up.

Zoro

Hey Curls, I’ve been meaning to ask, do you… want… to–?

Zoro looks up and finds that he's by himself in the field. He frantically searches around and sees Sanji and the rest of the Heart Pirates already running as fast as they can towards the city where the distant sounds of loud music blared loudly. Some split into groups and some wander off on their own. 

Zoro

Son of a–WAIT!!!

—

In Sabao Dome, Sanji and a few of the Heart Pirates managed to sneak into the stadium, finding themselves right in the thick of a massive crowd close to the main stage. They’re all feeling young, giddy and especially adventurous after having consumed their fifth drink too quickly. Sanji was able to acquire himself a long hood to cover himself so he could continue his day out without any interruptions from the local Marines.

Sanji

Bepo, hold my beer.

Penguin

YES!!

Shachi 

Do it, do it, do it!

Bepo

I don't know about this…Captain's going to kill us.

Bepo takes Sanji's cup regardless.

—

It took Zoro about two hours to track down the runaway Heart Pirates that had Sanji in tow. He held onto his own hood, trying his best to hide his identity while fighting through the crowd in the stadium as he approached them.

During his struggle, he learns from people’s discussions that the show is an annual event that is currently being recorded and broadcasted live. It's an open auction where any member of the public has a chance to bid and win a date with an eligible bachelor or bachelorette. All their proceeds would go towards charity so it’s always for a good cause. This year, they plan to expand the local school, improve facilities of the public hospital and if they’re lucky, rebuild some of the more run down areas in groves that have abandoned neighbourhoods.

The show presents the last stretch of eligible bachelorettes. The made up women walk through the runway to present themselves and the crowd roars in reaction. Paddles of different colours and numbers flash up in the air as the bidding begins for the first participant. An auctioneer in a fine tuxedo introduces them and begins taking bids, one bachelorette at a time.

By the time they're almost done with the last woman, Zoro finally joins the rest of the crew. They all yelp out in surprise.

Zoro

Oi!!!

Shachi

Ah, shit!

Zoro

Why the hell did you run from me?! And with him!!

Don't you DARE run now!

Bepo stops in his tracks, then turns to bow down apologetically to Zoro.

Bepo

…I'm so sorry…

Penguin and Shachi

SO WEAK!!!

Zoro

So?! Where the hell is he?

Penguin

Uh…

Shachi

He err…

Bepo

Well…

Zoro looked furiously at the other Heart Pirates. They shudder under his eye and hide behind the large polar bear.

The auctioneer slams the hammer several times against the lectern, congratulating a noble located on the second floor for winning the last date available for the show. Suddenly, he starts moving back through the curtains, looking like he was called urgently by someone from backstage.

Bepo

I really hope that means he's changed his mind.

Shachi

But…I kinda really wanted to see him.

Penguin

Me too.

Zoro

What are you on about?

The auctioneer returns to the stage with a wide smile on his face. He declares that he brings exciting news and tells everyone to not leave the stadium no matter what.

The lights go dim, and with a well built anticipation, he reveals the last minute surprise for the people of Sabao Dome, and for everyone watching live.

A spotlight focuses in the middle of the stage.

At the far end of the runway, in the darkness, everyone could see a mysterious figure step out of the curtains. The silhouette moved with grace and confidence, trailing behind a waterfall skirt that complemented the shape’s fluid movements. It walks towards the spotlight, then slows down as it nears the center stage. One agonisingly suspenseful step at a time, long slender legs appear under the light, revealing a lean figure in a long sparkling dress and matching coloured high heels. The figure takes another step, and everyone can see the person’s flat chest that links up to defined shoulder blades and slim but muscular arms. The swordsman can’t help but start to recognise the individual by the visible scars on their skin. The figure puts a hand on a hip, and with the other, flicks one side of their skirt before taking one final step to reveal their identity.

Zoro thinks that he’ll die right there and then–from the sight and from the whole idea of it. His jaw drops involuntarily, and the same goes to the rest of the Heart Pirates standing behind him. 

Sanji opens his eyes behind gold-glittered lids. He runs his tongue across the top of his reddened lips, and slowly trails a splayed hand from his thigh, teasing the crowd with a sight of his skin near his center through slit of his dress, drags his hand to follow his curve up to his chest, then finally he lifts his hair to reveal his long inviting neck to the crowd. He leans slightly on the side where his hand is on his hip, and gives the broadcasting transmission snail a seductive kiss in the air and one of his classic winks. The video footage feeds through all available screens in the area and beyond.

To Zoro’s horror and excitement, the auctioneer announces.

Auctioneer

We proudly present…our final bachelor…THE PIRATE KING OF THE NORTH!!!

The crowd goes nuts. The screaming is so deafening that the swordsman hears ringing behind his ears. Poor Bepo had to push his sensitive ears down to put up with the uproar. They get stuck watching the events unfold in front of them, unable to move like sardines in a can. They feel the crowd push in further from outside as people try to squeeze themselves closer to the stage as the bidding war begins.

Zoro and the Heart Pirates had to risk losing their voices just to hear each other.

Zoro

THE MONEY’S NOT EVEN FOR US! DOES HE KNOW THIS?!

Penguin

HE DOES!! HE SAID HE’LL FISH OUT THE WEALTHIEST PERSON IN SABAODY, GO ON A DATE, THEN STEAL FROM THEM WHEN THEY BRING HIM HOME!

Shachi

BUT NO DATES UNTIL HE SEES THEM PAY THE CHARITY FIRST! THAT WAS THE PLAN!

Bepo

WHAT DID YOU SAY, ZORO?! DO YOU KNOW THAT THAT’S THE KING?! HOW DOES HE WALK LIKE THAT WITH THOSE HEELS, RIGHT?!

Zoro lets out a pained groan and attempts to fight the crowd to get to Sanji quickly. It’s too dangerous for him to use haki, or to simply jump up in the air as he’s afraid of knocking people out given how grossly clustered the dome had become. He barely makes any progress at all. He’d never seen this many people freak out over one man. And of course it had to be him.

Penguin

HEY SHACHI! LOOK I’M BIDDING BUT I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY! HAH!

Penguin awkwardly waves his coloured paddle up above his head.

Shachi

FOR CHORE BOY? HAH!

Bepo

Captain is going to kill us for real…. I’m sure this time.

The auctioneer starts taking bids, starting at a ridiculously high price of 100,000 Beri. This immediately cuts off half of the public but it doesn’t stop the wealthier citizens raising their paddles, all desperate to have but a few moments of their time with the Pirate King.

Zoro thought he’d hated the man before. Now he wants to personally strangle him in front of everyone. He continues to struggle through the crowd, effectively separating himself from the Heart Pirates.

Penguin

Swordsman! It’s not a good idea to split the party with a crowd this big!!

Zoro ignores the man and trudges on. He needs to drag Sanji’s ass out of there now.

The auctioneer continues to take bids.

300,000…

850,000…

1,100,000…

4,500,000…

The crowd goes quiet. It was an eerie feeling of having gone from extreme loudness down to nothing. Another spotlight shone on the crowd, focusing on a pompous-looking woman who is fanning herself with the bidding paddle, looking mighty proud that no one can top her high bid.

Suddenly, there was a sound of heavy doors opening, followed by a booming voice that filled the air.

Voice

ONE. BILLION. BERRI.

Everyone’s gaze collectively turns towards the source of sound. The spotlight travelled from the pompous woman towards the farthest back area of the stadium.

The crowd parts for a man in a white boiler suit and resin bubble over his head. He approaches the stage slowly–not on his feet, but by using a larger man underneath him as a mount. He gives the slave an agonising snap of his whip to make him go forward, pulling the chain that’s secured around his neck painfully.

Zoro

Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

Zoro tries to squeeze through faster, but the crowd refuses to budge completely with most of them trying to bow down to the new arrival.

A Celestial Dragon is approaching, and Sanji can’t help but smile.

----------

This Sanji likes to look and feel fantastic.

Also, Bepo is love.

[matts-girlfriend]

Cut The Cameras - Matt Sturniolo

Youtuber!Matt and Videographer!Reader

Chapter 1

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

warning this series will contain substance abuse, angst, arguing, tension, mentions of sex, smut, this is a warning for all chapters.

summary ~ When Y/N finds out her boyfriend of three years is cheating—with the girlfriend of the one person she can’t stand the most, Matt everything falls apart. That is, until Chris suggests the unthinkable, a PR relationship. But with cameras rolling, emotions spiraling, and lines blurring, pretending might just hurt more than the heartbreak.

The living room was filled with the low hum of conversation, the occasional burst of laughter, and the click-clack of a keyboard as Y/N sat cross-legged on the worn-in leather couch, editing the triplets’ latest vlog. Her fingers moved with muscle memory, dragging clips into place, adjusting color grades, syncing audio with cuts. The familiar rhythm should’ve been soothing. But her mind? Elsewhere.

Her phone sat beside her, screen-up, taunting her in silence.

Another glance.

No notifications.

She bit her lip and clicked play on the current edit — Nick falling into the freezing lake after trying to "casually walk across the ice." Chris’s hysterical laughter echoed through the speakers, but even that couldn't crack her tension. She leaned back against the couch cushion, her shoulders tight with something unspoken, eyes flicking back to the phone again.

"You're gonna melt the fucking screen if you stare at it any harder," Nick teased from where he sat upside down on the other side of the couch, feet hanging over the backrest, his phone held above his face.

Chris looked up from his place on the floor, surrounded by empty snack wrappers. “Yeah, Y/N, maybe he’s just takin’ a nap. Doesn’t mean he’s ghosting you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Y/N mumbled, still not looking away from the screen. She could feel the worry sinking claws into her stomach. “I just… I don’t know. He’s never this quiet. Not even a good morning text.”

Chris scooted over and nudged her ankle with his hand. “You shouldn’t be stressin',” he said gently. “Josh wouldn’t ruin what you guys have.”

The words were barely out of his mouth when the front door slammed open like it had been kicked. Everyone in the room jolted, heads snapping up toward the source.

Matt.

He was standing in the entryway, hoodie half-off one shoulder, chest heaving like he’d run here, hair wind-messed. His eyes were sharp. Not in the usual cold and aloof Matt kind of way. No — this was something deeper, something wild. Something wrecked.

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

His gaze found her almost instantly. And whatever emotion was lingering on his face — it vanished like smoke. His jaw clenched, and his steps were harsh as he stormed toward her.

“What the fuck—” she started, but the words died in her throat.

“Did you know?” he barked. Voice sharp, ragged, raw. “Huh?! Did you fucking know, Y/N, that your fuckass boyfriend was fucking Kayla?”

Silence.

Pure, ice-cold silence.

Y/N froze, her body suddenly too heavy to move. Her eyes locked with his, wide, stunned. Her mouth opened. Closed.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she spat back finally, but it was all panic — thin and brittle.

Chris was already on his feet, wedging himself between them. “Alright, what the fuck is going on—?”

“You couldn't satisfy him that bad,” Matt sneered, “that he went for my fucking girl?”

The world stopped.

The air disappeared from the room.

The words hit her like a slap to the chest.

Nick stood up slowly, blinking in disbelief. Chris’s face went pale. And Y/N — Y/N saw red.

She lunged, hand midair before Chris caught her wrist just in time.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Matt!” she screamed, trying to wriggle free.

Chris shoved Matt back hard. “Shut the fuck up, Matt. Don’t fucking take your shit out on her.”

Matt didn’t say anything. His fists were balled. His face blank. But his eyes — those were still burning.

He sat down in the corner chair, glaring at the girl like she had personally betrayed him.

Nick crossed his arms, still looking between the two of them. “Matt, what the fuck happened? What are you talking about?”

Matt exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face.

“I went to Kayla’s place,” he said bitterly. “Was gonna surprise her. Take her out. I even brought her fucking apple juice ‘cause she said she liked that dumb organic shit. And then—”

He paused.

Swallowed.

“Then I heard it. Moaning. Through the door. So I, I fucking kicked the door in. And there they were. On the couch. Him on top of her like— like she meant nothing.”

A pause stretched out. Chris let out a low whistle under his breath.

Y/N’s stomach twisted violently. It felt like every inch of her skin was set on fire. The way Matt said it so detached, like he had to remove himself emotionally to even recount it — it only made it worse.

She didn’t cry.

Not yet.

She bit her lip hard, nails digging into her palms as she sat in silence. Matt wasn’t looking at her anymore. Thank God.

The buzzing sound of her phone jolted her.

Everyone looked at it.

The screen lit up: Josh (💛)

don’t believe matt

he’s lying

i swear it didn’t mean anything

i’m sorry i’m so sorry i don’t know how this happened

answer your fucking phone

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat.

Chris leaned over, eyes scanning the messages before she could hide them. “Jesus fuck.”

She didn’t even have time to react before the dam broke. A quiet, cracked sob escaped her lips and then the tears were falling fast, hard, uncontrollable. Chris was by her side in an instant, pulling her into his arms, whispering a soft string of “it’s okay, let it out, I got you.”

Matt watched from across the room.

And for a second, there was something in his eyes again. Something that almost looked like guilt. But he looked away too fast to be sure.

He stood abruptly.

Didn’t say anything.

Just stormed off toward the back hallway and slammed a door behind him.

Nick let out a shaky breath. “This is so fucked.”

Chris gently took the phone from her trembling hands and went to her contacts. Without asking, he blocked Josh’s number. “There. Done. You’re not gonna deal with his shit right now.”

Y/N didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

Her entire world had just been rewired in a matter of minutes.

And worse — Matt had seen it all coming before she did.

“Stay the night,” Chris said softly, brushing her hair back. “You’re gonna need the company.”

She nodded numbly, collapsing further into his side.

She didn’t notice the way the hallway light flicked off behind the closed door.

Or the way Matt sat on the other side of it, back against the wall, staring at the ceiling — like he didn’t know if he was more angry… or just broken.

a/n: If you couldn’t tell, this story is inspired by my c.ai bot. And I’m really sorry for the delay in getting the first chapter out — my mind’s been all over the place lately. I’ve been trying to pull everything together and figure out what to write, all while juggling school and sorting out my housing situation for next semester. So thank you for being patient with me. - Mari taglist:

@courta13 @m4gz-png @lezleeferguson-120

@h3arts4nat @izzylovesmatt @sturnioliolo @hsemeria @sturniqloo

@venusbabysblog @chrisslut04 @crazy4weeed @chriscokewhore @chrisswaffles @urfavvvnyasee @sturnzluv @freshluvr @mattthemunchh @poolover123 @pleasantdelusionbear @carpentersturns @emosexyvirgin @emillionaireee @shamelessmilkshakefest @xoxochrissgf @sturniolodollx @joyfulheartwhispers @cutseylady @oopsiedaisydeer @steph1106

@laylaluvsu2000 @lvrsturniolo @chloe444 @yamommmasman @55sturn @whenlovesaround @luvs-booksss @vampyyluv @moth-feeet @mx7ka @amb-3-r @ncm9696 @alinagrace11 @cherryystemm @bblbilly @d3vwrlds @chrismybouncyhouse @mattslvrxo @iluvchr1s @slutforchrissturniolo2 @mattsdemi @beardedbernard @cutseylady @kn3xtdoor @2prettyysturniolo @nicks-bubbles @bearnelli4life @sneezytime @skye-butterfly @mattslatina @mattsrightsockk

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 18

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N: Two days in a row? I hope you like it!

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16 • Part 17

• ··········· • ············ •

Viktor had once told Jayce that the lab should only be open to two people: him and Jayce. Anyone else was a distraction to their work.

However, as he glanced at you and your focused face as you tried to work on your rune shaping, it had him retracting his statement. Yes, you were a distraction, but Viktor couldn't help but welcome it into the lab. It was as if you had been there since the beginning. The way you lazily draped over the couch or leaned into his table. At some point during some of the past days, he found himself expecting to see you either enter the lab or already sat at your spot.

It was a strange and yet familiar emotion that he had felt once before. When he met Jayce, there was this invisible pull that linked both Piltover’s man of progress and the kid from Zaun, who had stolen an Academy uniform.

They fit together; despite all the bickering and head-butting, they both knew they would be there for each other, whether it was at their highest high or the end of the world. That connective tissue that passed between him and Jayce was made of the strongest alloy in Runeterra.

And then, you came along. When he crossed eyes with your disgruntled figure on the night of the rocket attack, he felt it. The same electricity jolt as when he met Jayce. Small strands were slowly becoming a rope that connected him to you. Even though he didn’t care to understand why, he let the familiar pull of thread manifest. Much like Jayce, your presence was welcomed in his space. And much like Jayce, you quickly found a way to his heart. Even if the space you occupied was entirely different from Jayce’s, you both were a part of him.

He knew you liked sweet tea without sugar or black tea with tons of it. He had caught you humming and singing when you’d been helping keep watch on the lab. He felt the love that you and Esther shared every time both of your eyes met. He learned that you have an expression only for when Jayce annoys you. He was keeping track in his mind of all the places where he had touched you, and you hadn't immediately flinched. He enjoyed it when you called him Vik with a grin on your lips that changed the intonation of his nickname.

And at the present moment, he had learned that he very much enjoyed you calling him 'Professor.' He made his face grow red, and his mind jumped to scenarios it had no business jumping to while he was at the lab.

It didn't stop him from stealing sideways glances at you from his seat at the table. The small twitch of your hand as you spoke the rune, followed by a frustrated frown when the rune didn’t work. The scientist looked at your hands, and his own started to warm as he thought about how well his long fingers intertwined with yours. He chuckled when you groaned at the panel, shaking it in frustration, the old panel rattling at the abuse.

When he sat down next to you after working in the malfunctioning reader, you immediately tucked your feet under his thigh. The sound that escaped him was more of a surprise than disapproval. The gesture was so domestic and comfortable.

You started to quickly shuffle away while he had to consciously make his movements relaxed and nonchalant as he stopped you. His first instinct was to just grab your legs and keep them in place. Lies. His first instinct was to grab your legs and place them in his lap, letting the warmth of you help with his aching bones. He contented himself with keeping your feet warm under his leg.

He enjoyed the silence in the lab, even when Jayce cursed and grumbled on his workstation or when you hammered the little blue crystals from the board. It was a fulfilling calmness. He was surrounded by the machinations of the people he cared about. And as he was lulled into a relaxing state, somewhere in the back of his mind he realized he had no desire to do any more work today. Which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but it was surprising.

All he wanted to do for the rest of his workday was to sit on this heavenly upholstered couch absorbing your heat while listening to Jayce tinker away angrily.

You groaned in frustration once more, and he wrapped his hand around your knee, drawing soothing circles on it. You didn’t acknowledge it, and when he looked at you, he saw a line between your eyebrows, showing your feelings.

In his mind’s eye, an image flashed. Him, leaning down, smoothing that line with his thumb, and then placing a kiss where it showed, while you scrunch your nose in mock protest. It was a clear memory of something that had never happened. It felt like seconds separated that gentle calmness from when chaos broke loose, even though it had been hours.

One moment he was welcoming Sky into the lab, trying to leash Jayce's misplaced anger, and the next their assistant was lying on the floor bleeding.

“Jayce! Go get help!” The broader man nodded and jumped to action, leaving you and him to look after the slightly younger woman.

Viktor's thoughts were running. The quickness of events still not completely sinking in. He had quickly spared a glance at Jayce's table, where a metal ball seemed to have expanded with the heat of Jayce's welding machine. He cursed under his breath and looked back at Sky.

You were gently caressing her head and telling her to breathe, and for a moment Viktor wished he had the people skills to be able to calm someone else down when he was panicking.

He kept applying pressure to the blanket but stopped short when you ripped the glove from your hand, his mouth open to protest. The glow still amazed him. and even though it was faint, it was awe-inducing seeing your fingers shimmer with light.

Before he could finish calling your name, something shifted. Not just in you, but in the room. There was a buzz in his ears, a sudden temperature rise, and his eyes watering.

As he tried to adjust to this weird atmospheric change, you abruptly shoved the blanket away from Sky's midsection. An almost feral move, making him almost lose the precarious balance he had managed on the floor.

Your hand gripped the place where the woman had been hurt as if you were trying to tear that piece of her out. There was something artificial in your movements, like something was doing it for you.

The hand you placed on the injuries turned charcoal black, and the white uniform his assistant wore started to look like it was being burned, small holes rimmed with an incandescent orange glow appearing on it. His eyes widened, scared it was burning Sky, but the girl only whimpered, and when he tried to look closer, only her uniform was melting.

The black on your hand started to grow, small black lines climbing your arm, and with the little Viktor knew about anatomy, it seemed like it was flowing upwards through your veins.

He called your name, and whatever looked back at him was not you. Your welcoming eyes were cold and unfeeling; he would dare to go as far as angry. They reminded him of a cat eye with a blue glow light reflecting in the pupils. Viktor quieted down as you kept staring at him coldly, searching for something in his face, and when he tried to call your name again, you only tilted your head. From the corner of his eye, he saw three red dots appear on the front of your clothing, mirroring Sky’s injuries. He tried to call out to you, but when you blinked, he saw the warmth in your eyes come back. You gasped in pain, and you slumped over, laying face down on the floor.

There were a couple of seconds before Viktor's brain restarted to focus. He looked down at Sky’s burned uniform and noticed three small red healed scars, and then his eyes shifted to the pool of blood starting to come from under you. He shuffled quickly towards you right before Jayce burst in the door with several enforcers. His partner's face was a mask of confusion and disorientation, but Viktor shook his head. Not the time.

"We need to get them to the hospital," Viktor said, still sitting weirdly on the floor, and Jayce quickly nodded.

Viktor's heartbeat was becoming faster by the second. He had been scared. For a moment he had been scared. Not for you, but of you.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw @lucycarlisleswife @noxturnalmoth @ren-ren23 @furblrwurblr @kapitankarate @mynicknameisgasoline @octo-octopie @birbwithhat @kneelarmhstrung @dedicated2viktor @elvishstudies

[briefinquiries]

Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 26

Tommy Shelby x Reader: Chapter 26

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 |Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you’ve seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby’s) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Tommy leaves the hospital to handle business tied to the growing threat, you remain behind to watch over Finn. In the quiet hours that follow, the weight of everything they've endured begins to settle in. .

Word count:  5.5k

Warnings: Violence, injury, mentions of blood, physical assault, PTSD and war flashbacks, language, and emotional distress

--

Finn had been in the hospital for five days before he finally woke up enough to have a full conversation. 

The first few days had been touch and go. His eyes would flicker open, he’d offer a few slurred words, maybe a weak squeeze of the hand, before drifting off again. But that morning, when you walked into the room with a fresh cup of tea for yourself and a glass of water for him, he was already awake. Propped slightly on a pillow. Eyes open while he talked to Tommy. 

You paused in the doorway, just for a second.

Tommy sat beside the bed, his posture relaxed in the way only exhaustion could bring. One arm rested on the chair, the other lightly gripping the edge of Finn’s blanket. His coat was off and sleeves rolled. 

Finn looked small but alert. His skin was still pale, and the dark circles under his eyes hadn’t faded, but he was awake and speaking clearly. His voice was soft and hoarse, but steady enough to hold a conversation. He said something low to Tommy. It was something you couldn’t quite catch, but it made Tommy let out a short, quiet laugh. It was quick, almost under his breath, but you hadn’t heard him laugh like that in days.

The tightness in your chest loosened, just a little.

You stepped fully into the room, and the sound of the teacup tapping against the water glass in your hand drew their attention.

Tommy turned to look at you. His eyes flicked down briefly to what you were holding before lifting back to yours.

“He’s asking for sweets,” he said, nodding toward Finn. “Says the food here’s terrible.”

You walked to the side of the bed and raised an eyebrow at Finn. “Glad to hear you’re feeling better.”

Finn gave you a tired smile. “They just brought me by some toast. There was no jam. Not even butter.”

You set the tea down and moved to help him sit up a little straighter. “God forbid.”

“I mean, I’m already suffering, I might as well do it with some jam,” he said.

Tommy gave a small shake of his head. “You’ll get jam once you can stand without falling over.”

Finn groaned. “How long will that be?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You’ll heal faster if you do what you’re told.”

Finn looked at him, unimpressed. “You never did what you were told when you got hurt.”

You blinked and turned to Tommy. “Is that so?”

Tommy gave a slight shrug, clearly not interested in revisiting that particular memory. “That was a completely different situation.”

You and Finn exchanged a look.

“Shelby logic,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Finn smiled again, smaller this time. His eyelids were already starting to droop again.

You reached for his cup and set it aside, letting him settle back against the pillows.

“You can rest, love,” you said softly. “We’ll be right here.”

He didn’t argue. Within moments, his breathing slowed again, deeper now, steadier. His face relaxed as he drifted off.

You let out a long breath as soon as his eyes closed. It was a quiet exhale you hadn’t even realized you were holding. Not until the fear loosened its grip.

Tommy reached for your hand. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles.

“He’s alright,” he said. 

You curled your fingers around his before leaning back in your chair. You glanced at Finn, then at Tommy. “Tommy, what are we going to do?” you asked. “The men who did this– they’re still out there. They could come back.”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze was steady on Finn, but you could see the shift in his posture, the way his jaw tensed, the way his thumb stopped moving against your hand.

“They won’t,” he said eventually. 

You studied his face. “You don’t know that.”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’ll make sure of it.”

You hesitated, then asked, “How?”

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, weighing how much to say.

“I’ve had someone watching every point of contact since the night Finn was taken,” he said finally. “Every alley, every shipment, every man who’s ever shaken hands with the Italians in this city.”

You frowned slightly. “Since when?”

“Since the wedding,” he said. “I knew Luca wouldn’t stop.”

“And?” you asked. “What’ve they found?”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, voice low so as not to wake Finn.

“He’s got people doing the work for him. Not just the Italians. Locals, too. Some of our own.”

Your stomach turned. “What?”

Tommy nodded once. “That’s how they got to Finn. Whoever let them through knew when and where to hit.”

He sat back slightly, his eyes narrowing like he could see it all playing out again in his head.

“Luca doesn’t kick down the door himself,” Tommy said. “He bribes the man who’s meant to be watching it. Men like him don’t come to finish the job unless they know they’ve already won,” he continued. 

You glanced at Finn, your hand still curled lightly around Tommy’s.

Tommy followed your gaze. “He could’ve come after me. After Arthur. After any of the men who’ve had a hand in this war. But he chose Finn.” He paused, eyes fixed on the boy in the bed.  “A child. A boy who had no part in any of this.”

His hand clenched once in yours, then loosened.

“If Luca Changretta wants a war, I’ll fucking show him one.”

Tommy’s eyes were still locked on Finn, his jaw set, his shoulders coiled tight like a man already halfway out the door. The shift in him was subtle, but you knew it well by now. You saw the way he straightened his spine, the way his expression flattened into focus. It was the version of him that didn’t hesitate. The one who made decisions with blood on the line.

He looked down at your joined hands for a beat, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

Then he stood slowly, his fingers lingering in yours until the last second.

“I need to check in with Johnny Dogs,” he said, his voice clipped, already shifting back into motion. “We’ve got movement near the rail yard.”

Your stomach tightened.

Of course he had to go. Of course this couldn’t wait. But that didn’t stop the sharp prickle of unease crawling up your spine.

“You’re going now?” you asked, trying to keep your tone even.

He nodded. 

You glanced at Finn, then back at Tommy. “I just…” you paused, trying to find the words without making it harder than it already was. 

Tommy let out a quiet sigh. “You just what?” 

You shook your head. “Never mind.”

There was something in his expression. An understanding, maybe, or guilt, or just the same exhaustion you felt. Like he knew what you were trying not to say: that you were tired of him walking out the door and not knowing what kind of version of him would come back. Or if he would come back at all.

“Go on. Just say it,” he said. 

“I know we’ve been cooped up in this hospital for days, worried about Finn and eating shitty hospital food. But we finally got a minute. Just us. Without the next fire already waiting.”

Tommy didn’t move, didn’t interrupt.

“I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I know you have a job to do” you added. “But that minute was nice, that’s all.”

He looked down for a second, jaw working slightly, then back at you.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was quieter now. It wasn’t fragile. Tommy Shelby was never fragile. But it was honest in a way he rarely let himself be.

You nodded, arms folding across your chest. “It’s alright. I just wish it could’ve lasted a little longer.”

He stepped forward then, gently, like he was approaching something delicate. He reached for your hand again, his fingers closing around yours.

“We’ll have more minutes,” he said. “Once this is done.”

You searched his face for a lie, but there wasn’t one. Just the same tired man who kept doing what he had to do because he didn’t know how to stop.

“Go,” you said finally, voice low. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

Tommy gave a single nod. He leaned in, kissed the side of your head, and let his hand fall away as he turned for the door.

You watched him go. Again.

You sat back down beside Finn’s bed, the chair groaning slightly under your weight as you settled into it like someone bracing for another long stretch of waiting.

…

The wind off the canal carried the stink of coal smoke and stagnant water. Tommy stepped out of the car without a word, shoulders stiff against the cold. Gravel shifted beneath his boots, sharp and loud in the stillness. He paused, glancing around the loading yard.

Tommy hadn’t been entirely honest with you earlier. He’d said it was a check-in with Johnny Dogs, nothing more. No point in making you worry about another possible setup, not when you’d just started to breathe again with Finn stable.

But the message that came two nights ago had been too precise to ignore. Someone claiming to speak for Luca. A neutral party. Promising terms. A place to talk.

Tommy didn’t believe in clean negotiations. Not with a man like Changretta. But if there was even a slim chance he could end this before another bullet flew, he had to see it through. 

Arthur climbed out after Tommy, scanning the dark edges of the yard with sharp eyes. He sniffed once, wiped his nose on the back of his glove, and muttered, “Place looks like it’s been dead a week.”

Tommy didn’t answer. His eyes were already tracking the shadows, the dim pools of light cast by a few failing lamps. 

Arthur stayed close, scanning every movement in the distance, but Tommy stood still. His gaze lingered on the far end of the lot. A delivery van passed in the street behind them. No one got out. No one pulled up. Nothing.

Johnny Dogs waited near the edge of the loading yard, half-hidden behind a stack of old crates. He didn’t wave. Just watched Arthur and Tommy approach with that taut, wary look he wore when something didn’t sit right.

Tommy lit a cigarette as he came up alongside him.

“Well?” he asked.

“No one’s shown,” he said without waiting for a greeting. “Nothing all day. Lads been posted since morning. Not a single fucker.”

Tommy nodded once, but his mind was already turning.

“Sure this is the right spot?” Arthur asked, stepping beside him. 

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He looked at the crates again. The open space. The clear exits. Too convenient.

“I’m sure,” he said. 

Arthur frowned. “You think they backed out?”

“No,” Tommy said. Even as he said it, the weight of the realization settled in his chest, cold and sharp. He took a slow drag from his cigarette and exhaled through his nose. “They were never going to show,” he muttered. “They wanted to know where I’d be.”

He’d known the message felt too clean. He’d known Luca didn’t send warnings. So why had he let himself believe it might be different this time? Because he was tired? Because he wanted to end it without more loss? 

He swallowed hard, jaw tight.

Arthur said something beside him, but it barely registered. A thin ringing had started in his ears, the kind he hadn’t felt since France, right before the shelling would start.

He turned slowly, his breath coming faster now, though he didn’t show it. Not on the surface.

“They wanted me away from the hospital.”

Arthur went still.

And now Tommy slowly turned, looking over his shoulder like he could already feel how far away he'd let himself get.

“They’re going after Finn,” he said.

“Fuck,” Arthur spat, already running back toward the car.

Tommy dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel, then he turned and followed, fast.

…

You sat beside Finn’s hospital bed, your body folded into the chair like you hadn’t moved in hours. Your head rested lightly against the edge of the mattress, one hand still holding his. His fingers twitched now and then in his sleep, weak but warm, a small reassurance that he was still fighting.

The room was dim. Just the overhead monitor lights cast a soft green glow around. It had been quiet since Tommy left about an hour ago.

You didn’t sleep, not really. Just let your eyes close every so often, tuning in to Finn’s breathing, the soft beep of the machines.

Then, the door creaked open.

You lifted your head slowly, groggy but alert.

A doctor stepped inside. 

He froze just past the threshold, like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re… still here.”

Five days in the hospital meant you’d seen just about every doctor and nurse on this floor. Even the overnight staff. But you didn’t recognize this one.

“We’ve been staying with him. Didn’t want him waking up alone,” you said quietly, forcing a small smile as you rested your hand back over Finn’s.

The man gave a tight smile of his own, stepping inside a little farther now. “Of course,” he said. “That’s… that’s good of you.”

He glanced briefly at the monitors, then down at Finn. Not in a way that seemed particularly concerned, more like he was checking the room.

You leaned back a little farther in your seat, watching him.

“I thought I’d seen the entire staff rotation these last few days, but I haven’t seen you before yet,” you offered lightly. “You just come on shift?”

There was the briefest pause before he answered.

“Yes. Just filling in.”

He stepped a little closer to the bed, flipping open the clipboard in his hands without really looking at it.

“I’ve got some pain medication,” he said casually. “Just to help him rest a bit easier. Should take the edge off.”

You frowned.

Finn had been given pain meds less than an hour ago. You remembered the nurse coming in gently. She’d even explained the dosage aloud while logging it in the chart.

You straightened slightly in your chair. “They already gave him something,” you said, voice still even but firmer now. “About forty minutes ago.”

The man didn’t look at you right away. Just stared at the clipboard like he was reading something.

“Oh,” he said after a beat. “Well, this is a different dosage. Coordinated by a different team.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Which team?”

Another beat.

Then he smiled again, too quickly. “Pediatrics. Just an adjustment.”

You glanced toward Finn, then back at the man.

“I’d like to check with the nurse on duty first.”

The smile faded. Just a flicker.

“There’s no need,” he said, a little too quickly. “Really. It’s all logged—”

“I said I’d like to check,” you repeated, louder now, rising slowly from your chair.

The man’s posture shifted, almost imperceptibly, but you saw it. Then, the man’s hand dipped into his coat. When it came out, he was holding a syringe.

Time seemed to stutter. For a split second, you couldn’t move. Your mind tried to catch up to what your eyes were seeing.

Then he lunged.

You stumbled backward, the chair screeching across the tile as it tipped over behind you. The man came at you fast, expression flat and focused, the needle clutched tightly in his fist.

You barely caught his wrist mid-swing, and shoved back with everything you had, your forearm slamming into his chest. The syringe dropped to the floor with a soft clatter, but his other hand grabbed your shoulder, shoving you hard into the wall.

You kicked out, caught him in the shin. He cursed, accent thick and definitely not local, and stumbled, but recovered fast. You barely had time to breathe before he slammed into you, tackling you hard onto the tile.

You hit the ground flat, the air knocked from your lungs, your head bouncing off the floor with a dull crack that made your vision blur.

Then he was on top of you.

Heavy. Hands everywhere. One clamped hard around your wrist, the other scrambling down toward your side—your coat, your pockets, something he was trying to get to. The syringe. Or worse.

You fought blindly.

Your knee came up hard, catching him in the ribs. He grunted but didn’t move. His other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and slammed your head back into the floor.

The lights above spun.

“What’s going on?” Finn’s voice cut through the haze.

It was thin. Fragile. The sound of a boy barely awake and already afraid. But you couldn’t turn to look. Couldn’t reassure him. 

All you could see was the man straddling your hips, his face inches from yours, sweat beading at his brow, nostrils flaring, breath hot and sour on your cheek. His jaw clenched tight, lips pulled back just enough to show his teeth. There was a smear of blood on his neck now. Yours, maybe, you couldn’t tell.

His eyes never blinked.

You saw the spit gathered at the corners of his mouth. Saw the twitch of his fingers as his hand moved toward your throat, slow but certain, like he wanted to feel the life leaving you. 

You twisted beneath him, arms pinned, the back of your head slick with blood against the tile.

His fingers closed around your neck, squeezing hard. 

Your breath cut off instantly, a strangled gasp catching in your throat as pressure surged against your windpipe. Your back arched instinctively, heels kicking against the slick tile as you clawed at his wrist, nails digging into skin that didn’t give.

The weight of him crushed down on your chest. Your lungs screamed for air.

Your vision blurred at the edges, black creeping in like spilled ink. You heard your own pulse thudding in your ears, heavy and distant.

One arm was still trapped beneath his knee, useless. The other scraped blindly along the floor, your fingers twitching and skittering across smooth tile, desperately searching, grabbing at nothing.

The panic was animal now. Pure survival.

And then, your fingertips hit something. Cold. Flat. Metal. The trauma shears.

You wrapped your hand around them and wrenched upward, muscles screaming, body twisting.

The next second, you were swinging.

You swung upward first, the blunt-edged blades catching him across the ribs. He snarled through gritted teeth, fingers still crushing your windpipe, his face inches from yours, breath hot and sour. Black was creeping in around the edges of your vision now, your body screaming for air—

You swung again, harder.

This time, the shears connected with the side of his neck.

Not deep, but enough.

He shouted, voice guttural and animal, recoiling with a sharp jerk. The pressure on your throat loosened just enough for you to drag in a desperate, choking breath.

You coughed, wheezed, and drove your shoulder into him, pushing him off balance. He staggered back, clutching the side of his neck where blood was already welling between his fingers.

You lunged after him.

Not because he was still a threat. Not because he was getting back up. But because he might. Because he would, if you gave him the chance.

You straddled his chest, one knee digging into his ribs, your hand still clenched around the trauma shears. His eyes widened, but he reached for you again.

You didn’t let him.

You brought the shears down, once, through his chest.

Then again.

And again.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t careful. There was no technique to it, just the weight of adrenaline and terror crashing through your limbs like a storm.

He tried to yell, but it came out a gurgle. You didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

Your hands were soaked now, his blood warm and slick on your fingers, your arms, your clothes. Your breathing came in gasps, ragged and animal. You couldn’t stop shaking.

You raised the shears again.

The man beneath you wasn’t moving. His arms were slack, his face unrecognizable through the mess. But your body didn’t understand that yet. Your mind was still caught in the moment, in the fear, in the fury.

Your hand tightened around the handle. 

One more.

The door slammed open behind you.

“Jesus Christ—”

You froze.

Your chest was still heaving. Your knees still dug into the man’s ribs. But you didn’t move. Didn’t lower your arm. Just slowly turned your head toward the doorway.

Tommy stood there. Arthur right beside him, wide-eyed, a half-drawn pistol hanging forgotten in his hand.

The room was silent now, except for your breathing and the soft beeping of Finn’s monitor, still alive, still steady.

You didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just knelt there, frozen, blood smeared up your arms, drying in streaks across your hands and mouth. Your chest rose and fell too fast, each breath shallow and ragged. The trauma shears were still clenched in your fist, white-knuckled and rigid, as if some part of you believed he might get back up.

The room felt like it was underwater.

Then, Tommy's voice broke the silence. "Are you alright, Finn?"

“He was trying to kill me. But she stopped him.” His voice was thin and scared. "I'm alright."

You didn’t turn to look at him.

You just stared forward, eyes unfocused, fixed on the blood pooling beneath the man’s body, the red streaked across your skin, the shears lying motionless by your knee.

You couldn’t feel your hands. Or your legs. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing.

Tommy stepped forward slowly, like you were a wounded animal, still caught in the middle of the fight.

He didn’t speak.

His eyes dropped to your hand. The shears still gripped tight in your fist, the blades slick with blood, trembling slightly as they hovered in the space between you and the man on the floor.

“You can let go of them now,” he said softly, his voice low but steady. “It’s over. He's gone.”

Tommy took another step forward, slow and deliberate.

You didn’t respond. Your eyes didn’t leave the body. You looked like you couldn’t hear him, like your brain was still caught in the moment, waiting for the fight to start again.

“Give them to me, darling,” he said gently, reaching out but not touching you yet.

Tommy crouched down in front of you, just far enough to meet your eye line.

Your grip didn’t change.

Not at first.

But then slowly, your gaze lifted. It met his. Your eyes were wide, glassy, hollow. He saw the exact second you came back to yourself.

“Give them to me,” he repeated, softer this time.

Your fingers finally loosened. The shears fell into his open palm with a faint, wet clack.

Without taking his eyes off you, Tommy reached back and handed them to Arthur, who stepped forward silently and took them without a word.

And then your body collapsed.

You pitched forward into his chest, sobs breaking loose from your throat in jagged waves. You didn’t hold back. Your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, your fingers fisting in the back of his coat as you clung to him like gravity itself had given out.

Tommy caught you instantly, one arm strong around your back, the other at the back of your head, pulling you in close.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’re alright. I’ve got you.”

Your entire body shook in his arms. Sobs tore through you with no rhythm or control. The weight of it all came crashing down at once: the fear, the blood, the way it could’ve gone so much worse.

Tommy’s hand moved gently, sliding up the back of your head to cradle it. He leaned in, forehead pressing against the side of yours.

You clenched your fists tighter in his coat, fingers aching, nails pressing into wool. The scent of him was thick in your nose. 

“He—” you choked. “I thought he was going to—”

Tommy pulled you closer, as if he could shield you from the memory itself.

“I know,” he said. 

During the war, you’d grown accustomed to death. You’d seen bullet wounds tear through men, grenades blow off limbs, and life slip away more times than you could count.

But you’d never been the one to take it. Until now.

And even though it had been his life or Finn’s, it still clung to you. In your clothes. In your hair. Under your nails. You could feel it in your bones, humming like something you couldn’t scrub off.

Tommy held you for another moment, then slowly shifted, rising to his feet and taking you with him. His arm stayed locked around your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle.

“Arthur,” he said, voice suddenly cold and clear. “Call John, he can help get the body out of here quietly. Have Polly come stay with Finn. I don’t want him alone.”

Arthur blinked, then gave a sharp nod. “Right.”

He moved fast, stepping around the blood, grabbing a sheet from the cabinet and crouching by the still form on the floor. You couldn’t even look at what you’d done.

Tommy’s hand came up to cradle the back of your head again, guiding you gently to his chest. “There we go,” he murmured. 

You didn’t argue.

You just let him hold you while the weight of what you’d done sank in, and the mess of it all began to be swept away. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You didn’t resist.

Your feet moved clumsily beneath you, barely aware of the sticky warmth of blood drying on your skin, or the dull ache in your knees and shoulders. You just followed the pressure of his hand at your back, leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.

Behind you, Arthur was already moving. The sound of fabric dragging across tile echoed faintly behind you as Tommy opened the door and guided you out into the hallway.

You blinked against the overhead lights, everything feeling too sharp, too clinical after the chaos of the room. 

There were no footsteps. No voices. No nurses with clipboards, no doctors making their rounds. The station at the end of the corridor sat empty. Even the usual low hum of activity had vanished.

You slowed, just slightly, scanning the space.

Nothing.

Just white tile. Pale walls. Abandoned chairs pushed crooked beneath tables. Machines left idle. A silence that stretched too long.

You didn’t ask.

Tommy said nothing either. Just adjusted his grip on you and kept walking. His pace was steady, purposeful. Like he already knew this floor was clear. Like it had been expected.

Like this, too, was part of the war.

He guided you through the back stairwell, down the side corridor, and out into the night. The cold hit your skin instantly, sobering and sharp. Tommy’s car waited at the curb. 

Tommy helped you in gently. But you didn’t remember buckling in, and you barely even noticed the drive.

When you pulled up in front of the house, you didn’t move right away. You stared out the window at the familiar shape of the doorway, the stone steps, the light flickering just inside the hall. 

Tommy came around and opened your door. He didn’t speak. Just reached for your hand.

You let him help you out of the car, your body still trembling. Inside, the house was quiet. Warmer than the hospital. But even that couldn’t touch the chill that had settled into your skin.

 Tommy gently guided you up the stairs, his hand steady at your back, and down the hall to your shared bedroom. The room was dim, untouched. He walked you straight to the adjoining bathroom. 

He turned on the tap, warm water rushing into the basin. Steam rose, fogging the mirror slightly. He found a clean towel on the shelf, poured warm water into a bowl like it was second nature, and soaked the cloth.

You stood by the door, unmoving. Watching.

“Come here,” he said quietly, holding the towel in one hand, his other extended.

You stepped toward him slowly.

He dipped the towel again, then reached for your wrist.

You flinched—not because it hurt, just because your skin still felt on fire with urgency.

His fingers were warm. The towel was even warmer. He moved slowly, wiping in steady, careful motions.

He started with your wrists. The insides, where blood had dried into fine lines like cracked paint. Then the backs of your hands, where bruises were already forming across your knuckles. He worked methodically, rinsing the towel, wringing it out, coming back again.

When he reached your forearms, you caught yourself holding your breath. 

He moved to your jaw next. The cloth brushed away a faint smear there, the pressure just enough to remind you flinch.

When he got to the streak along your cheekbone, he paused.

Just a beat.

Then he lifted the towel again and wiped gently, following with his thumb, soft and deliberate, like he wanted to wipe the memory of it. 

“I killed him,” you said suddenly. 

The words barely left your mouth. They didn’t sound like yours.

Tommy stilled. His hand hovered just beneath your jaw, not pulling away, not pressing closer. Just there.

“I know,” he said quietly.

You looked down, your vision narrowing to the floor tile between you. There was a smear of blood on your shirt sleeve, nearly dry now, the edges gone dark.

You swallowed hard, your throat raw. “I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. He was already down and I just– I couldn’t stop.”

He lowered the towel, letting it rest on the edge of the basin. Then he reached up and gently tilted your chin, just enough to meet your eyes.

“You did what had to be done,” he said, low. “That’s it.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all pushing back up through your chest, but Tommy was already shaking his.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t start second-guessing it now. It was him or you and Finn. And you did what you had to do.”

His voice wasn’t cold, but it was certain. Solid.

You didn’t respond. Just stood there, still trembling faintly, still feeling like you were trapped inside your own skin.

Tommy watched you for a moment longer, then set the towel down beside the sink and stepped past you.

You turned your head slightly, following his movement with your eyes as he crossed to the tub. He turned the taps, adjusted the temperature, let the water begin to fill the basin.

It was so ordinary a thing, so domestic, it made something ache behind your ribs.

Steam began to rise, curling around the edges of the porcelain. He tested the water with his hand absentmindedly.

You hesitated for a second. The thought of peeling off your bloodied clothes made your stomach twist, but the weight of them was worse, the way they clung, stiff and damp, heavy with what had happened.

Your fingers moved slowly. First the buttons of your blouse, then the skirt. You peeled each layer away with care, as if the fabric might tear you open if you weren’t gentle.

Tommy didn’t watch. He turned slightly, giving you just enough space to move without feeling exposed, but still staying close.

When you were down to your skin, you stepped into the tub. The water was hot, almost too hot, but the sting felt grounding. You sank slowly, easing your body beneath the surface until the warmth wrapped around your chest and shoulders like a weighted blanket.

Your hands hovered for a moment over your knees, trembling faintly. You weren’t sure if the shaking would stop, even here.

You heard the soft shift of fabric behind you. Tommy’s coat, his boots, his shirt hitting the floor one piece at a time. 

The tub creaked as he climbed in behind you.

You didn’t turn to look, but you leaned back the second his arms opened. He pulled you against his chest, one arm looped gently around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub. 

The water lapped gently around you both. His breath was slow against your shoulder, and his skin was warm and solid behind you. 

“You shouldn’t have had to do that,” he said. Regretful in the way only he could be.

Your fingers, resting just above the surface of the water, twitched slightly. You swallowed, but still didn’t speak as you laid your head back against him. 

“But I’m glad that you did,” he said finally.

You felt the shift in his chest as he spoke, the rhythm of his breath syncing with yours. The weight of the day pressed into the room like fog. Tommy tightened his arm around your waist, anchoring you against him.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Tale of the Cursed Raven -- Author’s Notes & Afterthoughts

The full series:

Part 1 I Part 2I Part 3 I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6 I Part 7 I Part 8 | Part 9 I Part 10 I Part 11 I Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

Miss Raven sketch is by shimmeryspark!

Well, it’s been quite the journey but we’ve finally made it to the end of ✨ Raven’s origin saga ✨. It was such a wild experience to write it all and hear your feedback for each installment. I hope that you all enjoyed reading it as much as I loved creating it... and I hope that it sheds more light on why Raven is the way she is.

Now that the series is done, I’m feeling really nostalgic about it (maybe it’s Mis Raven’s enchanted inks working their magic on me)💦 so I wanted to relive the memories a little, and share some of the feelings, insights, and thoughts I had before, during, and after writing the saga.

If you’re interested in reading that, it’ll all be below the cut for your convenience.

“May those who accept their fate be granted happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted glory.” — Edel, Princess Tutu (2002)

The Origins

I’ve always loved stories—more specifically, fairy tales. When I was little, they’d always be on my mind. Actually, they still are to this very day. If I wasn’t reading them, I’d be watching them or thinking about them, making theories and spinning stories of my own.

I loved the fantastical elements, the whimsy of magic and talking animals, the witches and the monsters, the royals and the warriors that protected them... I loved it all. That childhood love of fairy tales followed me into adolescence and adulthood. That’s really where this all began.

Of course, I gravitated towards media that prominently featured elements of, or borrowed from, fairy tales. This would lead me to the rabbit hole that is Twisted Wonderland 😷 (you all knew this was coming). Due to the blank slate nature of the game’s protagonist, Yuu, TWST was ripe for an OC community to crop up.

I saw a lot of unique characters in the fandom, so I wanted to create a character too. However, no matter how hard I tried, I struggled to develop a “Yuu” that I was satisfied with. At times, I even felt uncomfortable because I felt I was either putting too much of myself into “Yuu”, or not enough. It was then that I realized I would have much more fun making a character based on a preexisting story. A theme, a concept—they’d all be pre-set for me, and I could let my imagination run wild from those.

I didn’t want to adapt a character from a Disney movie (say, the Mad Hatter or King Triton). While I had seen many cool interpretations made by other people, I didn’t want to limit myself to personalities and character traits that were already determined by the movies or stories for me. I started looking into fairy tales themselves, looking for a character or a concept vague enough for me to base my OC on—and I found it in the wording of a riddle from Alice in Wonderland.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

It captured the spirit of whimsy I wanted to evoke in the OC. Ah, but there's also an underlying sadness and dread to her character. It's mostly Alice in Wonderland with a whisper of Edgar Allen Poe.

And thus, Raven was born.

Tsunderes — but why???

At first glance, you might look at Raven and label her personality as “tsundere”. It’s a popular trope in Japanese media where a character that is initially cold and harsh shows or develops a warm, friendlier side over time. One problem that I’ve always had with the tsundere archetype is that the media that employ it rarely, if ever, explain the reasoning for why a character is a tsundere. More often than not, tsunderes are used to comedic effect nowadays, with the tsundere characters acting violent towards their supposed love interests—and that’s something that has never really sat well with me. I don’t think that’s necessarily good writing, but I won’t fault the people who do enjoy that kind of thing. I personally prefer it when we get to know the characters and the reasoning behind their personalities and decisions more. Character-driven storytelling is my jam.

Familiar of Zero’s Louise lacks the magical power to back up her noble lineage, and she has an inferiority complex as a result of that. Toradora’s Taiga has a complex family situation which has left her distrustful of others. When writing Raven, I didn’t want her to fall into the trap of “no explanation” tsundere. I wanted to outline a clear reason for why her personality is “hot and cold”, like Louise and Taiga. Even more than that, I wanted Raven’s reason to line up with the concepts of “freedom” and “expression” that tie with her bird and storytelling motifs.

And so, her story started taking shape in my head. (If you want to read more specifics on my thought process, I’d check out this post. I also talk more about the concepts behind her there.)

Her Magic

I wanted to tie in her personality and philosophy into her unique magic too. After all, it's a spell that defines who she is as an individual. In the beginning, Raven was excited about the prospect of writing, as it would help her comes to understand others--however, she struggles to come to grips with their emotions and keeps holding herself at a distance. Only when she empathizes with her characters and with the people around her does her unique magic come into fruition. With it, she can see into others' hearts and rewrite their feelings--that is, if her willpower and coaxing can convince them to.

I didn't want Raven to be a particularly gifted magic user; she's someone that had to work hard to come into her own. I think of her humanoid form as something still awkward and developing, which sometimes interferes with her spellcasting. What really makes Raven shine is her determination, and the strong imagination that pairs with it. All she truly lacks is the ambition and the confidence, things that I hoped would be honed at Night Raven College.

The Characters for the Series

Initially, I wanted to feature a much larger cast of characters. At some point, I was ambitious enough to think I could somehow include every NRC student in the plot... but thank goodness I realized that just wasn’t feasible. I saw the narrative mess that happened whenever a creative piece tried to get too many characters involved. It just made it hard to keep track of and care about anyone on an individual level. Sometimes, it also distracted from the central themes and conflict. Now, that’s not to say that Raven has never canonically engaged with other characters (because she definitely has)! It’s just that those interactions aren’t as important to this story, so I left them out of it.

In hindsight, I’m so glad that I kept the core cast (up to a certain point) small. That way, I could dedicate more of my time writing each of their individual thoughts and emotions. Raven remains the main character throughout, while Rook, Crowley, Jade, and, to some extent, Azul, Floyd, and Octa A, are secondary characters. Idia, Vil, Epel, the Fates, etc., are very much tertiary characters that showed up a few times total 😂 but they all played their parts and still contributed the overall story.

A character that was introduced in part 6 was the timid but well-meaning Octavinelle A-kun (whose name is Kon, like konbu, or Japense kelp). He was actually included as a gag character because I couldn’t think of someone from the main cast for the role he ended up filling. I unintentionally got attached to Kon and decided to bring him back later in the story, because I guess I like the irony of a mob character that lacks eyes having more screen time than two Dorm Leaders (Vil and Idia). I think the inclusion of Kon also really helped the themes of the story, because, in a meta way, he’s like Raven. He’s a “background character” who ended up having time in the spotlight (and even earned himself a small but dedicated fan following), which proves that it’s possible for Raven, who also sees herself as a “background character”, to ascend and become a “main character”.

Speaking of semi-original characters, I also had fun doing my interpretation of the Fates in part 10. I doubt that’s what they’re like in canon and watch TWST prove me wrong, but it was super fun to write regardless of that. I think my favorite thing about them was how they bicker when they’re out of the public eye, but it was also interesting to come up with their idol poses and phrases.

The cast noticeably expands around part 15, and that was a very purposeful move on my end. Raven has had her revelation then, as well as a stronger understanding of how her unique magic works. Art that point, the story shifts from Raven being on the outside looking in to the characters witnessing her tale unfold. It's to indicate that Raven has finally properly begun integrating herself with the stories that she has always isolated herself from. Characters that have previously had smaller roles before (Vil, Idia, Azul) return for a reprise and to add their own context to what's happening now, and the characters never previously mentioned (Lilia, Riddle, Kalim, Leona) give their perspectives as people who had no direct involvement. I wanted to show the shades of familiarity that they have with what Raven's been up to on her lonesome, and how these different kinds of relationships and points of view are all important when looking at a story.

I was very excited to introduce the Enchantress (Estella) as an onlooker that has a tenacious history with Lilia; she's an original character I've been working on and hiding in the shadows until her first appearance late in this saga. Estella is a very complex person, whom I would describe as a mix of the Enchantress (Beauty and the Beast), Giselle (in both Enchanted and Disenchanted), Isabela (Encanto), Frollo (The Hunchback of Notre Dame), Mother Gothel (Tangled) and Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2). She gives... "tough love", but often acts in morally self-righteous and self-important ways, believing that it is for the "own good" of the people she becomes entangled with. Sadly, I was not able to go into her own background and motives, but someday I'd really like to!

The Plot of the Series

There’s a lot that you don’t see that goes into writing. I went through several iterations of Tale of the Cursed Raven, especially with the rising action and climax. You should see my writing drafts--there’s no rhyme or reason to them! You might see some bullet points to show a sequence of events, but the rest of the document is just random lines or ideas I think would “sound cool” that I just scribbled down while on the bus or something.

When I write a story, I usually know how I want things to begin and how I want them to end, and I have trouble filling in everything that’s in between. I usually took large chunks of time between the release of each installment to review information from the previous part and make sure the continuity carried over to the part I was currently writing.

It was also common for me to write, rewrite, and rewrite the parts again several times over before I actually put it to the public. Sometimes I would almost be done with an installment, and I’d delete it all and start over because I thought of something much better. I’d be irritated with myself in the moment for wasting all that time and hard work, but I think it ended up working out.

sadibasudbad Okay, I want to talk about some of the plot points that I scrapped, because some of them were actually interesting... They just took the story nowhere or caused issues with other things I had planned, so I had to drop them 😅

After Jade’s betrayal is revealed in part 3, I was going to have Raven become Azul’s business rival. Not in the restaurant sense, but more like she would offer similar “wish fulfillment” services as Azul, mostly because she needs something to do to keep herself positive. Her services were going to be called “Fairy Godmothering” and involved sending wishes on slips of paper in little black boxes she placed all over campus. However, she’d probably need a lot of help or strong magic to make that happen, neither of which really applies to her. I guess the tradeoff would have been that Azul offers more but asks for a price, whereas Raven offers less but works for free. She’d write stories as kind of a “road map” or “plan” for how she would personally fulfill her a wish, as opposed to Azul’s contracts, and which required a mutual agreement to the terms. I also didn’t know where to take the story after this point was introduced, so it had to go.

Part 8 was originally going to open with Raven and Riddle having a tea party and catching up. Floyd was going to emerge from some rose bushes with Cater and Trey chasing after him 😂 and Floyd was going to kidnap Raven from there for the boat scene with Jade. Like I mentioned before, I decided to cut this out to keep the number of characters the story had relatively short. (Plus, I guess Floyd would have had to run a shorter distance to the lake if Raven was already in the forest area than if she were all the way in Heartslabyul?)

There was a large hiatus between part 10 and part 11, because a lot of rewrites had to happen for the latter half of the series. Part 11 in particular went through several different versions—one of which would involve Prince Rielle visiting NRC for a magift game and knocking Raven out cold with the frisbee. Because Raven didn’t remember the face of the “prince” that saved her from drowning when she was a bird, I was going to have her mistake Rielle as that “prince” (similar to how Eric mistook Ursula/Vanessa for Ariel). Djsbsjsbshs But I already took a huge chance by writing my interpretation of the Fates, so I didn’t want to also do my interpretation of Rielle in case TWST gives us more details about him later. Rielle is based on a Disney princess, so I thought it was more likely that he got more details revealed about him over of the Fates, and I didn’t want to make my series too reliant on headcanons or unconfirmed information about a character we haven’t even seen yet.

Finally (and this is the biggest change of all), parts 10 through 20 were originally going to be heavily focused on action and adventure. Raven was going leave NRC in search of the Enchantress (who originally cursed the Storyteller several years go) and ask her to lift the curse, and the Enchantress was going to send her on a series of heroic quests to prove that she is “worthy”. But the more I thought about it, the more I thought the scale was too grand 💦 At the end of the day, Raven is just a bird trying to be a normal human girl... and I wanted her development to be more of a traditional coming of age story instead of a literal hero’s journey where she confronts dragons and saves villages. Something more down-to-earth makes her more relatable, so I went with that route instead of the action-adventure one.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the saga happens alongside the events of the main story (as some main story events, such as Overblots, are referenced). The last 5ish parts happen around the transition from the Ignihyde arc to the Diasomnia arc, sooo... :)) You can think what you like about whether Raven’s happy ending is reality or a dream conjured up by Malleus~

I argued with myself a lot while writing the series, especially about the ending. I had a lot of my friends (and readers, too) telling me “you’d better not kill Raven” and “Raven and Jade should kiss and make up/date each other at the end” (some of which came true, some of which didn’t). I was so conflicted at the time because while I never intended to kill Raven, it was clear that my audience was expecting a perfect “happily ever after”... and I didn’t know if such a conclusion would fit the overall tone of the series. I think what I ended up doing was satisfactory, though. It’s happy, but not overly so, and it keeps the door open for future shenanigans in a light-hearted and hopeful way. I think leaving it open-ended like this suits the theme of the saga and Miss Raven's struggle to find her freedom.

Raven’s Growth and Development

Raven has come so far.

The saga here is written kind of like “oh, this is her main story”, but it’s meant to be supplemented by “vignettes” and “event stories” (ie all the side content of Raven which fleshes out her relationships with other characters). The idea is that all her experiences at NRC helped her to develop her own sense of self, and granted her the confidence to fly in the face of her own fate, which she was once so hopeless about. When I look back on the last few years, I’m amazed at how much of it there is, whether produced by myself, by friends, or by fans. It’s really humbling that I get to share this journey with you all.

Raven used to be scared and shy, a timid bird with little to no understanding of the world, or of the creatures in it. Then she picked up a quill, ink, and paper—and a whole new world opened up to her. Her story is one of how freedom of self expression and creative works can connect us not only with others, but with ourselves. Because of that, Raven was able to grow and become a much more mature person (with the support of her friends and family, of course)!

Just because the saga is over doesn’t mean Raven is suddenly perfect, though. She still very much struggles to be emotionally expressive and honest with her feelings of affection (since she has gone so long burying those), so she’s still got a long way to go in that regard 💦 She also has some lingering self-esteem issues that she’s got to work on. Raven’s always changing...! Always willing to learn! Jade and Rook, please help her—

When people read Tale of the Cursed Raven, I don’t want them to “just see it as a love story” or “TWST OC x TWST Boy” fanfiction 💦 because the focus isn’t just on romance, but on Raven discovering herself, and her voice, in a world that once confused and scared her. It’s not just a story about finding love, it’s also about a girl growing up, gaining confidence, finding new family and friends to support her... It’s a lot of things, and I feel that it’s doing the saga a disservice by calling it just a love story.

I’ve mentioned this a few times before, but while Raven is not meant to be a self-insert character, I feel that her struggles are very relatable and I hope that you, too, can see some part of yourself in her and her journey. A lot of the writing process involved me analyzing and coming to terms with difficult feelings, particularly ones of self-loathing, self-acceptance, coming to terms with emotions, and trying to find one’s place in a world that can be confusing and scary to navigate. I feel that writing Raven’s tale was able to help me through those tough times in my life. For that reason, this saga will always hold a lot of sentimental value to me.

So... What’s next?

There were originally plans for me to make a follow up/spin-off series where Octa A/Kon was the main character. The theme of that series was “even the unnoticed and ordinary can be noticed and extraordinary!” It was going to focus on Kon and his mob student friends (one from each dormitory), along with their struggles of being “noticed” (as they are often just one face in a sea of mob students) and “fitting in” with their respective dorm’s ideals. I think it would have been a series that resonated a lot with introverts and people who see themselves as “less than” others or as “not fitting in” with others’ expectations. I might still do this, but it would probably be another huge project that would take months of planning and revision.

Another idea I had was to write a series of stories that are just flashbacks of Raven’s life prior to Night Raven College, whether as a bird or whether as the Storyteller’s apprentice. I also considered writing in-depth about how the Storyteller was originally cursed, and about the Enchantress responsible for it. I would like to get into her backstory and her motivations for spinning the Storyteller’s curse to begin with. (Maybe I’ll do those as blog anniversary or follower milestone specials?) Some friends of mine also jokingly suggested I write a sequel series focused on Raven and her relationship with L*ONA 🤢 dfhlbahefvqoeuq Lots of ideas, lots of possibilities!

As for Raven, she’s definitely not going away just because her origin saga is done. She’s still the beloved poster child of this blog, so of course I want to continue writing about her! It’s just that she’ll be a little freer to speak her mind now that her curse has been lifted. After all, "the end" is just "the beginning" of another story!

I kind of feel like a proud parent, seeing my bird daughter growing up, making friends, finding love, and developing her own sense of agency and independence 😭 I’m excited to see where this next chapter of Raven’s life takes us.

Before I sign off, I’d like to thank you, dear readers, for following Miss Raven’s story until the very end. None of this would be possible without you!

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguments, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

I sat cross legged at the small vanity in my room, blending out the last bit of highlighter on my cheekbones. My outfit I had planned to wear was already laid out on the bed behind me, ready for the evening ahead. My hair was half done, still tied back loosely as I finished off my makeup. It felt nice to have a little time to myself to unwind and prepare, especially after the long day of travelling.

I was in the middle of putting eyeliner in my waterline when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in" I called out, not looking away from the mirror as I focused on not poking my eye.

The door creaked open, and I glanced at the reflection to see Matt stepping in, a glass in his hand. "Vodka lemonade" he said, his voice still carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who had had a little too much to drink.

I turned fully to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered what I drink?"

He shrugged, his grin lopsided but genuine. "Of course. Hard to forget when its the only thing you drink"

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass from him. "Thanks, I guess" I said, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. The moment it hit my tongue, I winced, coughing slightly. "Oh my god Matt! All I can taste is vodka!"

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe like it was holding him upright. "Yeah well, you’ve got some catching up to do. Consider it motivation."

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the vanity. "It’s almost like you’re trying to kill me" I teased, but there wasn’t any bite to my words.

He gave me a wink, nearly stumbling in the process, and we both laughed. For a moment, it was like we never hated each other. It was weird. Today, we’d actually been nice to each other. From the plane to downstairs to now, it was almost like we’d turned a corner. Or maybe the alcohol had simply dulled his usual sarcasm.

Matt straightened up and glanced around my room, his eyes landing on the green crochet outfit on the bed. "That what you’re wearing tonight?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Yep" I said, turning back to the mirror to finish my eye makeup. "I’m just hoping it comes to get the way I have it in my head."

"Bet it’ll look good" he said, his tone softer than I expected. When I glanced back at him, he was already heading out the door. "Hurry up though. Dinner waits for no one, especially when you’re as drunk as I am."

"I’ll be down soon" I replied, watching as he gave me a lazy wave and disappeared into the hallway. After Matt left my room, I set the vodka lemonade on the dresser, deciding to pace myself as I continued getting ready. As I stood back to admire the final look, I adjusted my halterneck top, making sure everything sat just right. 

I slipped on my nude heels, grabbed a small clutch, and downed half of the vodka lemonade Matt had brought up. The burn of vodka was strong, but he wasn’t wrong, I did have catching up to do if I wanted to match their buzz. By the time I walked down to the foyer, everyone was gathered there.

“You took long enough” Nick teased with a grin as I joined them.

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas” I shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

We stepped out of the villa together, the warm evening breeze carrying the faint scent of sea salt. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but navigating the uneven path in heels was proving to be a challenge. After a few steps, I stumbled slightly on a dip in the road.

“You alright?” Matt asked, catching up to me.

“Yeah, these heels and this road aren’t exactly the best of friends, a bit like us” I muttered, half laughing at myself.

Without saying a word, he offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment before looping my hand through it.

“Don’t make it weird” he said, smirking down at me.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it” I replied with a sarcastic smile, though I appreciated the gesture.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy spot with string lights draped across the patio. As we approached our reserved table, I heard Nick let out a quiet yell.

“What are you guys doing here?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

I looked up to see a couple seated at our table, their parents. Their mom stood up with a wide smile, pulling Nick into a hug.

“We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few days” she said warmly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

Their dad chimed in, “But don’t worry, we’re staying on the opposite side of the island. We’re not here to crash your whole trip.”

Nick let out a laugh, still processing the surprise. Chris and Matt looked equally stunned but pleased to see them. 

The waiter approached to seat us, and we quickly rearranged our tables, one table with four seats and one table with three. I glanced at Matt, who caught my eye with an amused look.

“This should be fun” he said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t figure out how drunk you three are” I whispered back, earning a small chuckle from him.

We settled into our seats, Nate sat across from me, Matt was next to him, and Chris was beside me, while Nick took one of the seats at the table with his parents.

Chris leaned forward toward his parents while pointing at me,  his tone casual yet proud as he introduced me to his parents. “This is Y/n” he said. “She works with me for Fresh Love. We’ve been working hard on the new drop, couldn’t do it without her!.”

I smiled politely, but before I could say anything, Nick chimed in from the other table, his grin as wide as ever. “And she’s also my best friend” he added, his playful tone leaving no room for debate.

Their mom smiled warmly, nodding in approval, but the moment didn’t last long. Nick dove into conversation with his parents, leaving the four of us at our table to converse with each other.

Nate glanced up at Matt and Chris, his lips curling into a smirk. “Actually, I never asked how’d Vegas treat you two? Looked like you guys were.. occupied” he said, his words almost like he was implying something.

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Occupied is one way to put it. Christina practically glued herself to Matt” he teased, earning a scoff from Matt.

Hearing another woman’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no reason to feel jealous, and yet, the idea of Matt being drooled over by someone else stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite place. It was irrational, and I knew it, so I kept my thoughts to myself, silently picking at the edge of my napkin.

Nick’s voice broke the conversation as he turned to Chris. “Hey, wanna head outside for some pictures real quick before we order?”

Chris nodded, standing up and following Nick without hesitation, leaving just me, Matt, and Nate at the table.

There was a brief moment of silence before their mom, who I assume was half listening to our earlier conversation, leaned over with a smile. “So Nate, do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not at all” he replied, his tone light.

Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. “Harsh one.” He snickered under his breath, looking directly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his comment. Before I could even ask what he meant, Matt took things further. He smirked and leaned back in his chair, his voice loud and clear. “Y/n and Nate went on a date last week, you know that?”

My heart sank, my face flushing red as all eyes seemed to land on me.

“What?” I stammered, but Nate jumped in before I could say anything more.

“It wasn’t like that at all” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We just grabbed dinner as friends.”

Matt wasn’t ready to let it go, though. “Oh, come on, Y/n” he teased, his voice making a mockery out of me. “Why so quiet? Feeling the sting of public rejection?”

My stomach twisted in humiliation. I could feel my face burning as I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone at the table. The old Matt was back just like that.

“Matt, stop being so rude” their mom interjected sharply, her tone firm. She turned back to her husband, trying to steer the conversation away from Matt’s antics.

“Yeah c’mon man we’re just friends” Nate tried to make it clear.

But Matt wasn’t done. His next words hit like a punch to the gut. “Oof, imagine just being a quick fuck and then friendzoned.”

The air left my lungs. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. None of what he said was true, but the damage was done.

“I.. I’m actually not feeling the best right now.. I think it's the heat.. excuse me” I said quickly, my voice cracking as I stood up. I turned to their parents, forcing a polite smile through the lump in my throat. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the table, the tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.

As I pushed through the entrance, I nearly ran into Nick and Chris, who were heading back inside.

“Y/n?” Chris asked, his expression immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well” I mumbled, not stopping to explain. Before either of them could say another word, I kept walking, desperate to escape the restaurant, the humiliation, and, most of all, Matt.

I still felt the heat on my face, not from the warm Hawaiian night, but from the lingering embarrassment curling in my stomach. I really hoped his parents didn’t hear him say that. I was halfway down the quiet street when I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me.

“Y/n, wait!”

I clenched my jaw, picking up my pace, but Matt was faster, jogging until he caught up beside me. “Come on, don’t be like that” he said, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

I stopped abruptly, whipping around to face him. “Oh, really? Because bringing up that in front of your parents sure didn’t make me feel like the star of the evening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor fading. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just messing around, you know how I am-”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem.” I turned back around, ready to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” His voice was softer now, the arrogance stripped away. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “And yet it did.”

He exhaled heavily, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with some half assed apology.

“Y/n” he tried again, “I just-”

“I don’t care, Matt.” My voice was cold, firm. “You always do this. Say something without thinking, then act like it’s not a big deal when it is. I don’t need an apology. I just need you to stop.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out a way to fix this, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. So I stepped around him and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the dimly lit street, finally at a loss for words.

He didn’t follow me this time. Maybe he finally got the message, or maybe he knew pushing it any further would only make things worse. Either way, I didn’t care. My chest still burned from embarrassment, and my head was buzzing with frustration as I made my way back toward the villa.

I reached the villa, slamming the door behind me before kicking off my heels and making my way to the room. The relief of being alone and actually having a bedroom door for privacy was short lived because not even five minutes later, there was a knock.

I sighed, already knowing who it was. “Go away, Matt.”

“Just let me in for a second” he called through the door. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in his voice made me hesitate. It wasn’t his usual cocky tone. It sounded.. tired. Frustrated, even.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and swung it open. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Matt stepped inside, his jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Look” he started, pausing for a second before meeting my eyes. “I was a dick. I know that.”

I folded my arms. “Great self awareness. Anything else?”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to be funny, or maybe I was just being an idiot, probably both. But I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

I scoffed. “You said I was a quick fuck that got friendzoned, Matt. How else was that supposed to come out?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it” I shot back, my voice rising. “In front of your parents, no less. Do you even think before you speak, or do you just say the first thing that pops into your head?”

“I-” He stopped, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think you’d care so much.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Care? Are you serious? You embarrassed me, Matt. You made me look like some desperate fool who got used and thrown away. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or something worse. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” I continued, folding my arms. “It’s not just what you said, it’s that you acted like you knew everything. Like you had some inside joke at my expense. And for what? A laugh?”

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my voice rising. “Because you made it sound like I was some easy target for Nate. And for the record, nothing ever even happened between us.”

Matt’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” I snapped. “That night? Seven Minutes in Heaven? We didn’t even kiss. We sat there and talked, thought we’d mess with everyone's heads. And when we went out when you were in Vegas, and we made it clear we were just friends. There was nothing more to it.”

Matt blinked, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. “So you-”

“I never hooked up with Nate.” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Not then. Not ever. So whatever picture you had in your head, whatever assumptions you made, they were wrong.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands still shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, you didn’t” I said bitterly. “Because you never asked. You just assumed.”

I could see it sinking in, the weight of his words finally hitting him, but I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I just felt tired.

Matt let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah” I said, my voice flat. “You were.”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to say more, but I was done.

“I don’t have the energy for this” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m done, Matt. I don’t care how sorry you are. Just leave me alone. It’s best if we just stay out of each other's way for the rest of the trip.”

His jaw tensed, but this time, he didn’t fight it. He just nodded.

“Alright” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

I didn’t reply. I just closed the door, locking it this time.

a/n : everything is .. not changing?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

An Arranged Marriage, part 21

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20

1.4k words

With a lot off his chest Zen is able to rest now feeling reassured that that you both are on the same page. Though with him not quite feeling 100% you decide that it’s your turn to take care of him.

(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)

————

Zen had long since fallen asleep. A hangover, two emotional confessions, and lots of kisses and cuddles later and he was sleeping soundly finally. His grip around you was loose and you could have probably gotten up without waking him, but he looked so peaceful finally, purring in his sleep and occasionally still nuzzling you.

You felt pretty bad never really considering how he felt about everything, you had just assumed he also was not expecting too much either, but that was not a fair assumption. But now he slept peacefully, assured that you wanted to get to know him, to fully have a relationship.

It was easy to fall asleep like this with him, he was warm, the way his arms wrapped around made you feel safe, his purring was soothing, everything about him just felt right.

“What time is it?” his voice was groggy in you ear.

You were not sure how much time had passed napping, though the sun now cast long shadows on the wall.

“No idea” you answered back.

Zen groaned again and rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. He always felt so sturdy under you, he was not as broad as many of the other trolls you met, and Ba’tual towered over him, but he still dwarfed any human.

You reached out and took one of his hands, they were so much larger than yours. Palm to palm like this your hand only just covered his palm, your five fingers against his three. Every time he worked with his hands you could not help but watch. His movements always delicate and deft, much more so than yours and it was impressive to see. Though other thoughts about his hands had also crossed your mind.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yeah, left over pastries aren’t much of a breakfast, and we definitely missed lunch”.

“I can go get us something” he offered.

“You can’t tell me that you’re feeling completely fine now. There’s no way”.

“I am fine enough”.

“No. How about I get you some more water and medicine, we go clean up, and I’ll go get us something to eat”.

“You do not have to do that”.

“I want to. You don’t feel well so I want to take care of you, like you do for me”.

He looked up at you so softly, and you could feel how hard he was purring, “Thank you, my lovely wife”.

His words made you blush. You leaned down and gave him a few light kisses along his neck and nipped right at his jawline, which caused him to let out a small moan.

“Mmmm, how am I supposed to get up with you doing that?” he sighed.

“That’s all your getting for now”.

“That is all I am getting?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you have to court me now” you teased.

With your hand still in his he placed a few kisses along the back of your hand, “I look forward to it”.

You rolled off of him and helped him up as he wobbled a bit though he tried his best to not lean on you too much and knock you over. He was still unsteady on his feet, but doing far better than last night.

While he sat on the edge of the tub, you ran a bath for you both. This time you insisted on sitting behind him and he did not complain when you told him that it was your turn to dote on him.

He leaned back on you so that his head rested against your chest while you washed his hair, him happily purring the whole time.

“How are you still shedding this much?” you asked in amazement as you kept having to rise of tons of his hair off your hands.

“It will be hot soon so the winter layer needs to shed out”.

“Hot soon? It’s already hot!”

“This is not hot for here, it has been pleasant, though it is warmer here than my village since we do not get the sea breeze here in the city. I should ask Bira to help get you some summer clothes”.

It was much warmer here in the north than you were used to. While you had been making due with the clothing you had brought, Zen was right, it would probably be best to get some lighter clothes if it was only going to get hotter.

You continued scrubbing his hair and wishing you had his comb since the water and shampoo seemed to really be making him shed more. Once you got out as much hair as you could, you moved onto his chest to finally clean off the dry cum. You felt the vibrations in his chest from his purrs as you reached over his shoulders to wash whatever of him was not submerged in the water.

“You purr a lot” you said.

“I have a lot to be happy about, especially now that I have the chance to get to know and love my wife”.

His words made your heart flutter. You had not expected in an arranged marriage for your husband to actively want any sort of romantic connection, rather maybe passively years down the road maybe there would be something. But not Zen. He decided if he was going to be married then he was going to choose to love.

You rested your chin on top of his head once you were done with his chest and reached a hand up to one of his tusks.

“What’s all carved on your tusks?” you asked.

“Many things. Some are just decoration, some show my tribe, or honor my gods, and some mark that I am one of Tsov’ka’s avatars”.

Involuntarily you tensed up when Zen mentioned Tsov’ka, a topic you had been avoiding.

“I am still very sorry for how I handled things” he began, “I was not trying to lie to you or trick you, I promise. I just did not know how to tell you without upsetting you and I hoped that if you just met Tsov’ka you would see that he is not the same being that your Light has you fear”.

Any anger you had over things had long since dissipated, though you were not convinced that there was no cause for concern over Tsov’ka. Still, you wanted to trust Zen, you wanted to believe that the kind man who doted on you and took care of you was not the follower of an entity that wanted to consume the world and plunge it into darkness.

“Do many people follow Tsov’ka?” you asked.

“Not as many as the other gods, but that is common. Gods like Owa, Oja, and Reli have such a wide domain that everyone worships them, but with gods like Tsov’ka most people will never need his gifts or protection”.

“What about Bira and Ba’tual? Do they follow Tsov’ka?”

“Ba’tual does, Bira follows Halu, the Protector of Travelers”.

“And what about your village, do many people there follow Tsov’ka?”

“Only a few, most follow Lozu, the Lord of the Ocean”.

“So why do you follow Tsov’ka then?”

“My father before me was one of Tsov’ka avatars, and even when I was a child Tsov’ka guided me and protected me. As the war went on I needed his gift to protect my people, and after my father was killed Tsov’ka needed another avatar, so he granted me that boon” he shrugged.

“Did you get a say in that?”

“I could have turned it down, but it is a great honor and it was what was expected of me”.

“But was it what you wanted?”

“That does not matter, it was what was needed” his tone flat and matter of fact and you decided to drop the topic.

Instead you kissed the top of his head and wrapped your arms tightly around him for a few long moments before helping him finish bathing. It was nice seeing him so relaxed, he was clearly enjoying being taken care of. You let your hands wander and play with his ears while you kissed along them, enjoying doting on him and all the sounds he made. You kissed lower, down the side of his neck and across his shoulder. He had freckles on his shoulder you never noticed before.

————

Part 22

Tag list

@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen

[persevereforahappyending]

A Beacon in the Dark |18|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, Attempted Killing, I think that's it?

Word Count: 4.2k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 |Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21

You added more weight and laid down on the bench. You wrapped your hands around the bar, slowly let out a breath and lifted it off the rack. You focused on pushing the bar up and bringing it back down. After a few reps you could finally feel beads of sweat running down the side of your face.

Music poured in through your earbuds as you continued lifting. Grace was forcing you to take it easy after being shot, even though you weren’t completely fine now. Joey also seemed to agree with her and even used the doctor card to force you to take a break from missions for a short while. They could keep you from going out into the field, but they couldn’t stop you from working out.

“This is not taking it easy,” a voice cut through your music. You tilted your head, scrunching your brow as you looked to the left and saw Joey standing there.

You held the weight up in the air, not bothering to rack it or bring it down. You couldn’t remember anything about meeting Joey today, you didn’t have a training session, there wasn’t a mission that you knew of. You also hadn’t gone to pick her up and she didn’t drive, as far as you knew Grace hadn’t left her office.

“How did you get here?” You asked.

Joey scoffed and crossed her arms. “Nice to see you too.”

“What are you doing here?” You ignored the clear sarcasm in her voice.

Joey raised an eyebrow and nodded at the weight in your hands. You looked up, realizing that you were still holding it, then quickly put it back. You sat up on the bench, swinging your legs around as you looked at Joey expectantly.

Joey rolled her eyes. “Grace sent a car,” she finally answered. “Said it was important.”

“I could have picked you up,” you frowned. You always picked Joey up and dropped her off, except for the rare occasion you couldn’t. You could have today though, you didn’t have a life, you would have dropped everything to pick up Joey, car rides together were one of your favorites.

“There was no time,” Grace said, entering the room. She didn’t bother looking up from the ballet in her hands the entire time.

“Let’s go!” Grace snapped, flicking her eyes up at the two you didn’t make any sort of move.

You jumped up from the bench and Grace quickly turned in her heel and began the march to her office. Joey raised an eyebrow at you, but you only shrugged, Grace had been in her office since you woke up, which was early. You actually weren’t sure if she even went to bed the night before, she sometimes got too into her research and the next thing she’d know you were knocking on her door, and she wouldn’t know what day it was.

“What’s so urgent?” You asked, the three of you entering Grace’s office.

You stopped in your tracks, forcing Grace to brush right past you, refusing to break her stride, and make Joey nearly bump into you. The bulletin board was filled with images of an old mansion, somewhere pictures from this century, others were black and white, clearly printed out and pulled from old newspapers, and others were just sketches, but all clearly of the same building. You slowly walked up to the board, your finger lifting one of the papers, then glanced at another, it was like you could see the entire history of the home, of when it was first built and in perfect condition to where to was now, still standing but the paint was peeling, bricks were crumbling, and vines had started to grow up the side.

“What’s all this?” Joey asked. She had made her way to your side, her eyes scanning over all the documents and photos.

“A vampire coven,” Grace answered.

You could practically see Joey’s entire stance change, her back suddenly becoming straighter, her eyes fixed on the board in front of her but probably not really seeing any of it. You knew Joey’s history with vampires, even without her mentioning anything from that time. You also knew that most of her trouble came from one vampire, until there turned out to be another, then another. The only reason she made it out was because one of the guys she was with took out the other and then her and the girl, who originally kidnapped them all, teamed up to take him out.

One singular vampire was hard enough, just like a single werewolf wasn’t a walk in the park. Going up against a vampire coven was similar to going up against a pack, the worked and hunted together. If anything, vampires were more dangerous given their human appearance the entire time. As much as you hated to admit it, they were also faster, even when you were transformed. The only thing you truly had over them was your strength, even in your human form.

“How many?” You asked, trying to keep it business as usual. You made sure to keep Joey in your peripheral, she might have had experience against vampires but that didn’t necessarily make it easier for her to deal with.

“Unknown,” Grace answered. She furiously typed away on your laptop. When she was done the printer on her desk began spitting out pages upon pages. This was going to be a big one it seemed.

A coven in general was bad, not knowing their numbers was even worse. There was no set amount for how big a coven could be. A coven could literally only be made up of two people, or it could be in the hundreds. That big of a coven was rare, there was still a hierarchy, a head vampire to give orders and oversee everything, just like an alpha of a pack. Unlike werewolves which seemed to desire to form a pack and submit to an alpha, vampires formed covens for power. The bigger the coven the stronger they were and the more influence they had, they took over and ran cities, mostly a couple centuries ago, but there were still a few cities run by vampires.

“What’s their game?” Joey asked, speaking up for the first time since Grace told them what they were going after. Despite her clear unease with this situation her voice was steady like it always was, as if this was truly just another mission.

“The typical tricks,” Grace said. “Lure their prey in, bring them back for a night of fun-”

“They could at least try switching it up,” you mumbled. Vampires seemed to stick with what was familiar to them, many of them never changing their tactics over the centuries. They were always so boring too, pick up a random victim at a club or bar, take them home, then drain them dry.

“How’d you find them?” Joey asked, seeming to want to focus on what was important.

“Too many reports of disappearances,” Grace sighed. “A friend leaves with one of them never to return home, last trace of their phone is somewhere in this area,” she pointed to a red circle on one of the maps she had pinned up. “Investigation shows someone getting dropped off here,” she pointed to the mansion.”

“The police don’t investigate?” Joey furrowed her brow.

“They do but-”

“They don’t find anything,” you finished for her. “As you know, vampires are quite good at what they do. It’s in a secluded area, not exactly shocking someone goes missing.”

“They’re drunk and disoriented, accidents happen.”

“No one’s ever investigated the mansion?” Joey asked.

“Sure, they have,” Grace sighed. “Plenty of times but vampires know how to make themselves hidden.”

“People tend to not linger when in creepy abandoned places,” you said.

“What do they do with the bodies?” Joey furrowed her brow, her eyes scanning the board as if it held all the answers.

 “When we were attacked Sammy fell into a pool of bodies, it was were Abigail seemed to toss her victims once she was done with them,” Joey mumbled, seeming to be talking to herself more than anyone else.

“Place is big,” you noted, looking at an image with an aerial view of the property. “There could be a section inaccessible to the police.”

“Or they can have another place on the property,” Grace added. “The Le Domas’s like to throw their victims into the barn.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Joey asked.

“You go in hard and fast.” Grace asked moved to stand in front of the board. “Leave soon and it’ll still be daylight.”

“They’ll be hidden.”

Grace nodded. “You’ll be armed with everything I have, make entry, investigate, but you’ll be setting charges throughout the mansion.” Grace grabbed a piece of transparent plastic and laid it over the picture with the layout of the mansion. A small smirk tugged at your lips as you saw little green dots had been drawn on the plastic and were now showing you the perfect location for placing the charges.

“Defend yourselves if necessary but the goal is to get in and out,” Grace continued. She didn’t wait as she marched out of the room towards the weapons room. “Once the charges are placed get the hell out of there, then blow it when you’re a safe distance away.” She pushed open the door to the weapons room, revealing everything alerted neatly organized and laid out on the table.

“Each of you gets half,” Grace rested her hands on two stacks of explosives.

“You want us to split up?” Joey asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’d rather you stay within line of sight.”

You clenched your jaw, taking opposite sides of the room while staying within visual of each other made logical sense. The two of you could get the job done in half the time by doing it that way. Vampires were fast though; you all knew that one could reach out of the shadows and grab Joey before you even had time to turn around. She didn’t talk about it much, but you were sure some of the people she was with got taken out when she or others were close by, before they even knew what they were dealing with.

“Stakes,” Grace continued. “Reinforced with a metal hilt,” she pointed at two matching wooden stakes, each of them carved with expert precision so they were capable of breaking through skin and bone, the silver metal at the bottom designed to help make the stake not break as easily but also act as a handle.

“Guns,” Grace said. “Specially designed to shoot wood bullets.” Joey raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Won’t kill them but it will hurt like a bitch.”

“Grenades,” Grace waved her hand dismissively as the half a dozen grenades she had sitting in a box.

“No flamethrower?” You snarked.

Grace flicked a glare at you, she never let you use a flamethrower. “I’m just saying, what better way to clear out a nest?” You tried to reason.

Joey ignored you as you continued to try and persuade Grace, though you made less and less progress every time. Despite focusing on trying to sell Grace on your idea, you did catch a ghost of a smile on Joey’s face.

“You needed to head out,” Grace said, effectively putting an end to the conversation. “You’re losing daylight.”

You opened your mouth but shut it when you felt your phone vibrate. You looked at it to see Grace had sent the coordinates to the mansion, a digital layout of the mansion, and anything else you might need. “Fine,” you sighed.

You slid one of the guns over to Joey and shoved the other in the back of your waistband. You slid her one of the stakes, then each of you strapped it to your side. You hoped it would truly be a quick in and out job, no stake needed, but you never had that kind of luck. It was better to keep the stake within reach and not need it than need it and not be able to get to it.

Grace quickly threw in the remainder items and zipped up the two bags. You grabbed both of them and gestured for Joey to lead the way. You followed her to your car, and she tossed them in the back when she opened the trunk. Grace followed you out to the car but didn’t step away when you closed up the trunk.

You gave Joey a nod telling her to get in, Grace clearly had something she wanted to say. Grace stepped closer once Joey was in the car and the door was closed. You furrowed your brow as you tried to get a read on Grace, it wasn’t often she didn’t want Joey to overhear what she had to say, there was generally no reason for secrecy.

“Be careful,” Grace whispered. You opened your mouth, Grace told you that all the time, it was hardly something secret. “Don’t be a hero.” You furrowed your brow, but your eyes quickly softened at the realization of what Grace was asking you.

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” you whispered. “Just like with you.”

You couldn’t make a promise you knew you wouldn’t keep. Even Grace knew you couldn’t keep such a promise. You didn’t think of yourself as a hero, you could never be one with the monster inside you. If it ever came down to it though you wouldn’t let anything happen to Joey or Grace, they had too much to live for, too much to offer the world.

Grace let out a sigh that sounded like she was reluctantly accepting your answer, knowing she wouldn’t get a better one. “Just…” Grace whispered. “Come back to me. I kind of like having you around.”

Your lips quirked up in that classic soft smile of yours. Grace could be cold and distant after everything she went through. She was also a total badass that could absolutely take care of herself, she proved that time and time again with doing this long before bringing you in and with being able to take you down almost effortlessly if she needed. However deep-down Grace still had that part of her that longed for a family. She didn’t talk much about her past, but you knew she never had anyone and then when she finally found someone, she thought was the love of her life, who was seemingly giving her everything she dreamed about, it all turned to shit. You didn’t want to be added to the list of things that hurt her, even if it wasn’t intentional, you didn’t want to be just another reason to close herself off from the world.

“You’re my best friend,” you said with a small shrug. “My family. I’ll always fight to return home.”

Grace threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Your entire body went rigid but quickly relaxed. Grace wasn’t much of a hugger but when you were honored with such a rare occasion you always instantly wrapped your arms around her as well. “If anything feels off, get that hell out of there,” she whispered.

You pulled away and nodded, silently making that promise. You did stupid stuff sometimes, didn’t retreat even though you knew it was better to. Ever since the hunters though Grace has been more protective, especially after continuing to come up empty on who they were. It should have been relatively easy to find them, it wasn’t like there was a large pool to draw from, but this hunters seemed nonexistent. You knew they weren’t new; they were skilled and worked silently as a team, that told you they were experienced hunting and working with each other.

You finally stepped away from Grace and hopped in the Jeep. You let out a sigh as you gripped the wheel before turning the key. “Everything okay?” Joey asked softly.

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. “She’s just worried.” Joey let out a small hum but didn’t comment further. You knew she felt the same as Grace, that she wouldn’t want you to be a hero, and would prefer it if you came back from each mission unharmed.

You tapped the button to start the GPS and got to moving. The mansion was almost an hour away and you needed to make it with as much daylight as you could. It wasn’t anywhere close to being dark, you had hours before the sunset, but you couldn’t take the risk. There was no telling how long it would take to set the charges, and you had to be careful as to where you placed them. You didn’t know what the inside looked like, there was no telling how many dark places completely devoid of the daylight there was. For all you knew, the mansion was completely engulfed in darkness and when you stepped foot in the mansion the two of you would be snatched up before either of you realized what was happening.

The radio quietly filled the otherwise comfortable silence between you and Joey. Joey herself even leaned over and turned up the music, generally she turned it down, sometimes even off. You tossed her a side glance and saw her resting her elbow out the own window and leaning her head on her hand as the window blew through her hair.

“Caleb asked when he’d get to see you again,” Joey said, breaking the silence when you were about halfway to the mansion.

You chuckled, you didn’t realize you had made such an impression on him. “Well, I’m happy to see him again whenever you want me too,” you said.

You weren’t in Joey’s life like that, you knew that. You weren’t even friends, you were co-workers. Joey drew a hard line when she first joined you and Grace, she allowed you to inch closer to that line by letting you meet Caleb. You wouldn’t ever push her though, you still wouldn’t go up to her apartment, you wouldn’t pick her up while Caleb was there. Just because she let you meet him once didn’t mean she wanted you interacting with him anymore than that.

Joey turned her head, tilting it as she seemed to take you in. You weren’t sure what she was seeing, you kept trying to glance at her out of the side of your eye but had to quickly return your focus to the road. She looked ahead again, but there was a small smile on her face, making you furrow your brow. You weren’t sure what her thoughts were given that she didn’t say anything more.

The rest of the car ride was continued in silence. You eventually got out to where the mansion was and turned down a gravel road. The gravel road stretched on for over a mile bled out into a newly paved driveway. You glanced at the surroundings as you pulled around the crumbling fountain out front. The driveway was nice, hardly looked like anyone driven on it. It didn’t match the rest of the area though, just like the pictures the mansion was vast, half of the stone crumbling, revealing the wood underneath, the other half was being devoured by vines. The forest surrounding the mansion was overgrown and created a natural canopy to hide anyone or anything hiding inside.

As soon as you parked you rolled up the windows, you didn’t need to make a quick escape only for a vampire to chase after you and yank one of you out of the open window. “Ready?” you asked, looking over at Joey. She stared straight ahead, her hands shoved in her pockets as she fiddled with a sweet-smelling candy. She let out a shaky breath before nodding.

You hopped out of the car and moved to the back, grabbing both backpacks and handing one to Joey. She slipped it on her shoulders, but her eyes never left the mansion. The windows were boarded up, obviously an attempt to keep out as much light as possible. Part of the roof was caved in; you could already see the way sunlight could peak in through the cracks of the walls. Some sunlight was getting in there, you just didn’t know how much.

“Stay behind me,” you whispered.

You quickly made your way up the steps, making sure your movements were as silent as possible. You reached out, your hand gripping the door handle. You glanced back at Joey one last time before pressing the door handle down and giving it a push. Nothing happened. You gave the door another hard shove, it wasn’t locked but it was clear something was keeping it stuck in place.

You let out a sigh and glanced back at Joey, she reluctantly sighed and gave a nod, knowing what you needed to do. You gripped the door handle tighter and slammed your shoulder into the door, instantly bursting through. You stumbled into the middle of the room and looked around at the broken bits of wood. When you turned around you saw the two by four that had been clearly nailed across the door broken in half.

You held your hand up, silently asking Joey to stay back. You glanced around the room, straining your ears to hear throughout the entire mansion for any signs of movement. When you picked up on nothing you nodded for Joey to come in. There were vampires in the building, you knew it, you could smell them, but at least they weren’t awake, at least it didn’t seem that they were.

You pointed for Joey to take the right side of the room while you took the left. There was more light on the right side and less rooms for vampires to pop out of. You unzipped the backpack and pulled out one of the explosives and placed it on the wall. You kept your ears focused on Joey, any change in breathing, any stumble, anything out of the ordinary, and you’d be on her in a second.

Once both of you had placed explosives in the room you began making your way up the stairs back-to-back. The only thing that seemed to be intact was the was the railing, the white stone steps were chipped at best, other bits partially crumbled, and you had to step over them to get to the next intact step.

You pointed at the area right beside the top of the stairs for Joey and crossed the room for yourself. The upstairs was darker, the only bit of sunlight peaking through the holes and cracks of the roof. You placed your next explosive across the room, in between two-bedroom doors.

You tilted your head, flashing your eyes as you stared down the dark hallway that led deeper into the mansion. You didn’t catch any movement or see any eyes staring back at you. The hallway was completely engulfed in darkness though. You inched forward, your foot just on the edge of the threshold that would having you stepping into the darkness. You placed the charge right beside the entrance of the hallway.

There was the tiniest creak and all the hair on the back of your neck stood up. You spun around and crossed the distance, grabbing the pale arm before it had the chance to reach out of a room and grab the small bit of Joey that was in the shadows. You tossed the creature across the room with your full force, its body smashing through one of the bedroom doors.

Another one shot out of the same room, tackling you over the railing and sending you crashing into the stone crashing from the force. You let out a groan but as soon as you opened your eyes the vampire latched onto your neck. You gritted your teeth as you tried to swallow your own scream.

Shots were fired and the vampire released you. You flipped it over and slashed your claws across its neck, ripping its head clean off from how deep they went. Your eyes were burning bright as you looked at the stairs to see Joey halfway down them, her gun still raised. You launched yourself in the air, landing in front of Joey just as a vampire sped forward, ready to grab her.

You held the vampire with one hand, your claws digging into its neck as you let our a fierce growl that rumbled the entire mansion. You latched onto its neck with your own teeth, and tossed it aside, letting it scramble back into the shadows to slowly die.

You tilted your head as the floors creaked from all across the mansion. You slowly inched down the steps closer to Joey. “That room,” you pointed to one of the closed doors down on the first level, the only one you didn’t hear a single sound coming from. “Go! Now!” You heard Joey’s feet stomping down the steps, not even attempting to argue with you. You flung yourself over the railing to protect her as she dashed across the foyer. The charges weren’t all set, Joey was still in the building, and you heard at least twenty different bodies rushing towards you. The coven was much bigger than you would have ever imagined, easily the biggest one you had ever faced.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @thatshyboy1998 @chxrryxcx

@bella423 @morganismspam23 @pianogirl2121 @sadoutlaw @pohtaytoh

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (16/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: The progression of your pregnancy sends Sylus away for the day to acquire something important from the dragons, leaving you alone on the mountain.

Content Warnings: Adult language.

Length: 3k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (17) (18)

Read on AO3

As the months passed and winter melted into spring and into summer you found yourself heavily pregnant during the hottest month of the year. There were good days and bad days and worse days. Pregnancy was beautiful in some aspects, like when you first felt them kick. Sylus hadn’t let go of your stomach for an hour after that just so he could feel them move around more. But other days were filled with puking, mood swings, and insatiable cravings.

“Sylus?” you called.

“What is it--” he stopped when he walked in the bedroom and saw you laying starfished on the floor. “Did you fall?”

“No.”

“Then why are you on the floor?”

“It’s hot and the ground is colder than the bed.”

“Can’t be comfortable though. How about we get you up--”

“No. I live here now.”

“Little bird--”

“Nothing little about me now. Look at me! I look like I swallowed a pumpkin!” Your whole body ached. “Can we just get this kid out already? I’m tired of being pregnant!”

“You look beautiful.” He rubbed your swollen stomach. “You’re growing our child and they will be ready to meet us in another month. I’m sorry you’re having a rough day though. Can I get you anything?”

“You can make it winter again so I’m not dying of heat stroke.” you fanned yourself.

“If I could turn the seasons for you I’d do it but as it is this is the most I can offer.” he unfurled his wings and beat them gently, causing a cool breeze to blow on you. “Better?”

“That does feel nice.” you sighed.

“Now what did you call me in here for? Or did you just need to complain.”

“No. I did need something.” you tried to sit up but your stupid big stomach was making it hard. Sylus stopped fanning you to help you sit up. “Can’t even sit up anymore…can’t believe I agreed to have three more of these.”

“No backing out now.” he said. “Now what did you need?”

You held out your arms. “A hug?”

“Oh my sweet,” he pulled you into his arms. “It’s been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah…” you had barely gotten any sleep last night because the baby decided midnight was the perfect time to start doing somersaults in your womb. Then it was just so hot you couldn’t think to do anything but flop onto the ground. You were sore, you were tired, and you just wanted this baby out already!

He looked down at your stomach. “And you in there, treat your mother more kindly. She’s working hard on making you, you should be more appreciative.”

There was a kick to your side. “Baby says no.”

“I fear we have a rebellious child on our hands. Just know, little one, if you keep hurting your mother like this we are going to have words when you are out of there.”

You laughed. “I don’t think they’ll understand why you are scolding them, Sylus.”

“They’ll know. Just like they know what they’re doing right now.”

“You are ridiculous.” you sighed, your mood easing again.

For a few minutes you sat together, tracing your stomach, feeling the faint thumps of the baby kicking at your insides. “I hate to worsen your mood again but I need to tell you something important that I don’t think you will like hearing.”

Your smiled dropped. “Do you have to?”

“Unfortunately.” he brushed some hair from your face. “I need to leave for a day or so.”

“What! Why are you leaving?”

“Hush, it’s alright. You see I…” he sighed. “I have been enjoying our time together so much this past year. I cannot believe that I’ve been able to call you mine for that long. But there’s a certain dragon tradition I need to complete with the due date coming closer.”

“I thought you were done with dragon traditions. You said you were going to create your own rules.”

“I did and I meant it. But there are some laws and practices that I still have to adhere to out of safety.”

“Safety? What do you mean by safety?”

“You see, there is a special salve that all new hatchlings in a dragon tribe are anointed with when they are born. It marks them as dragon and helps keep them safe. It is said to ward off predators and evil spirits. I don’t know how much I believe in evil spirits but with this being our first child I do not want to take any risks.” he cradled your stomach. “The dragons are the closest that they venture this way but the journey is still long. I will be gone for a day, maybe two.”

“I see. But why is it so far? When we went to the beach where they were that only took a couple hours.”

“That was because they needed the sand. And if I showed up at a ride asking for the salve after I had left the tribe it would be seen as exceedingly rude. So I had to wait for another time and this is the time they are closest to this land otherwise. It is still more than half a day’s journey by flight hence why I said I will be gone for a while.”

“That makes sense I suppose. Just promise you’ll hurry back.”

“I will. I promise. Do you want to go stay in the village while I’m gone?”

“No. I can survive a day or two without you here. I don’t much feel like taking a flight. Not if you want me to hurl in your arms.”

“Alright. I leave early tomorrow morning and with luck I should be back late in the evening, or the next afternoon at the latest.” he kissed your temple. “Don’t strain yourself while I’m away.”

“Trust me. I don’t feel like doing much of anything.” you sighed. “One more month…”

The next morning Sylus left, stirring you from sleep but for a moment to tell you he was leaving before giving you a kiss and taking off. You went back to bed for a few more hours until the baby decided to kick at your bladder and woke you up for good.

You went about your day as normal and decided to occupy your time by finishing some of the baby clothes you had been working on. You couldn’t wait to finally meet your baby! Tara had assured you in the reading she did that the birth would go by smoothly. She had asked if you wanted to know whether you were having a boy or a girl but you decided to let it be a surprise.

You were sitting in the hoard room, the reflection of light off the gold provided the best light to work by, when you heard a sound from somewhere else in the mountain. Strange. Was Sylus back already? Maybe the dragons were closer than he thought.

“Let’s go see if your father is home.” you said to your stomach and waddled out of the hoard room. “Sylus?” you called. “Did you forget something?”

You made it to the entrance chamber and saw there was an entire squadron of people there. You didn’t recognize any of them. “Excuse me, you’re trespassing in my home.” you said, drawing their attention to you, “I’m going to need you to leave at once.”

None of them were speaking which immediately put you on edge. You gripped the fabric shears in your pocket. From the back of the crowd one of the men shuffled forward. You knew this man. He was one of the villagers, the one that had been staring at Sylus and you at the woodworker’s cottage.

“That’s her.” he said, pointing to you.

“You weren’t shitting us, Aaron.” one of the others said, “The dragon really mated with a human.”

You placed a hand over your swollen belly. “I don’t know for what reason you have all come here but I suggest you leave now while you still can. If you so much as touch me you will have to answer to my mate and I doubt you want that.”

“Your mate isn’t here.” the man from the village, Aaron, said. “And he won’t be back for a while. We spotted him leaving early this morning with a large pack. Hardly something you take for a quick flight around the mountain, is it?”

They had been stalking the mountain? How long had they been watching? What did they want? None of that mattered right now. You needed to act. You were severely outnumbered and you couldn’t fight without endangering your baby.

“Now, miss, you can come quietly or we can do this the hard way.” they said, brandishing their weapons.

Fuck! You turned and sprinted as fast as you could back into the tunnels of the mountain. You lived here for over a year. You had time to memorize these tunnels. You could hide from them so long as you kept ahead. But it was hard to do that when you were eight months pregnant! You needed to go. You needed to find some place to hide they’d never find you.

“Hard way it is.” their cruel laughter echoed off the walls, “Get her!”

~~~

Sylus was not looking forward to this. The closer he got to the dragons the more agitated he got. He had to talk himself out of turning around and returning home a dozen or more times. He was already anxious leaving you alone and he started to question how much he really needed this salve. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen if he didn’t get it.

He also didn’t want anyone else letting them know that another half-breed was being born. He would deliver that news himself and face whatever ire came with it. It was late in the afternoon when he finally spotted the tribe down below.

Too late to back out now. He flew down, bracing himself for any manner of reactions from the others. Immediately they picked up on his scent. He recognized most of those that he passed. They glared, some growled, but no one had yet to make a move to stop him.

He steeled himself, his hands balling into fists as he charged forward only to have his path abruptly cut off by a large blue dragon with citrine eyes. “The half-breed returns,” they laughed, “And he reeks of human.”

“Nilamegh, how dearly I have not missed you.” the Draconic fell off his tongue easily. It was strange speaking it again after so long. It was rough in his mouth.

Another of the dragons, a green one landed behind him. “He always reeked of human. But this is new.” they pointed a massive claw at Sylus’s neck. “He is mated now.”

“Yes I have, Bercilak.” Sylus said, “And I see you still have not. Why does that not surprise me?”

“You--” Bercilak snarled before Nilamegh cut him off.

“Really? You took a mate?” their large head glared at Sylus, “What poor pathetic human did you force yourself on?”

“Shut it!” Sylus felt his composure slipping. “She is my mate and she wanted to be my mate. She is now pregnant with my child. I have only returned to get the salve for the anointing of my offspring. I promise I will not return after I have acquired a jar to take home with me.”

“More half breeds?” they snarled and the others that had been eavesdropping showed the same shock. “Was our race not already disgraced by the addition of you?”

“That is enough.” a voice boomed louder than all the others. Every dragon bowed their head and moved out of the way as Tengya stepped forward. Despite being surrounded by dragons twice his size this was the only time Sylus felt truly dwarfed. He took a knee, keeping his head low.

“Sioltach,” Tengya said, his voice calm, “You have returned.”

“I go by Sylus now.”

The old dragon made a noncommittal grunt. “You would.” he dismissed the others. “Raise your head. Walk with me.”

Sylus followed obediently, his entire person on edge as he and Tengya wandered farther from the crowd. He wanted to just ask for the salve and leave but knew better than to talk before the elder did. When they were far enough away Tengya sat down, Sylus knelt in his massive shadow.

The large dragon regarded him for a moment. “You come seeking the salve to anoint your offspring, yes?”

“You heard that much, did you?” Sylus muttered.

“No. But I know there is only one reason you would return to the tribe after so long away.” Tengya said, lowering his head to be more eye level with Sylus. “You have a human mate.”

“Yes.”

Tengya sighed, his molten red eyes assessing Sylus up and down. “You have grown. Last I saw of you, you were but a child. Rebellion in your blood, fire in your eyes. You were such an angry child.”

“My anger is what let me survive.” Sylus could feel all those emotions clawing at him. “Are you not angry, elder? You know why I am here. I have a human mate. She is soon to give birth to our child. There will be another half-breed running amok in the world. Does this not make you angry?”

“Why would it? I am glad that my progeny has found peace.”

Sylus stared at him dumbfounded. “Your jokes are cruel.”

“I do not joke. Do you think that I regard you so little, my son?”

“I am a curse!” Sylus fumed. “A punishment for a woman who tried to take your magic. I know you do not care for me.”

“I created you. If I thought you would be a blight on this world I would have found a different way to punish that woman.” Tengya’s quiet and calm response only stoked Sylus’s own ire. “But I see how your time away has warped your opinion of me.”

“It is not warped. I know I was not accepted here. You all saw me as a monster. An atrocity!”

“I cannot speak for the others, but I know what I thought.” Tengya huffed, blowing a jet of steam at Sylus. “And I never saw you as a monster. You were my creation, my child, whether you accept that or not is your own decision. And then you left. Ran away from the tribe.”

“Because I was not accepted.”

“You were accepted, Sioltach. You are because I say you are. But that was not the problem.” Tengya said, “You are dragon, but you are also human. And you craved to be loved, but that is not something dragons can provide. I cannot apologize for not being able to defy my nature. But I can give you this.” he reached into a chink of his massive scales and produced a jar the size of an urn.

Sylus caught it with a small grunt. “Take the salve. Anoint your child. Accept them as a dragon, love them as a human, as only you can.”

“That is it?” Sylus stared at the jar. “You have nothing else to say?”

“What more is there to say?” Tengya stood. “Return to your mate. Live well, my son.”

Tengya took off into the sky, leaving Sylus alone in the field holding the massive jar. He bowed his head. “Thank you.” he said to the wind.

He packed the salve into his pack and immediately began the flight back to the mountain. There were many thoughts going through his head but all he cared about was going home. Sylus was relieved though. He had the salve and while it wasn’t set in stone there was an implied promise that Tengya would not let any of the others harm you or your child.

Sylus wanted to get back as soon as possible but the flight was long and he needed to bunk down in a tree for a couple hours before continuing the journey. He finally made it back to the mountain late the next morning. The sight of the mountain had filled him with so much joy. He was finally going to be back with you.

He touched down at the entrance and the joy of being home immediately evaporated. Something was wrong.

He sniffed at the air. Your scent was faint, almost gone. And there was something else. Other scents that didn’t belong. Sweaty and masculine scents. Had you decided to go to the village after all? Had your father come to get you? What was happening?

Sylus set the pack down and ran through the cave trying to find you but could find you nowhere. That’s when his nose caught another scent, it was hidden but the further into the caves he got the more prominent it became. Blood.

“No…” Sylus followed the scent into a dark room. His eyes strained in the darkness until he found the source of the smell. That horrible sweaty masculine smell was strongest in here, mixed with the faint sour tang of fear and metallic blood. He found a pair of large scissors were covered in blood. Not yours. But the dark stain on the ground, that was yours. That reeked of you.

Someone had come in here and and hurt you. Someone had raided his home and taken his mate and child!

His skin grew blisteringly hot. What felt like fire surged through his blood and red hot heat burned out of his eyes. Each breath he tasted smoke and death on his tongue.

He ran back out of the cave, his skin shredding around him as he took to the sky once more. A scream ripping from his throat in pain and fury. He was going to kill them! He was going to kill all of them!

[justatasteofyourpoison]

Helping Alastor out of a rut…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem reader fan fiction)

Part 1

My first time writing a bit of Hazbin Hotel smut. Well, any smut for that matter! Probably a lot of grammatical mistakes but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Plot: Not a great deal of plot, but you’re the latest resident at the HH who may be able to help Alastor out of his rut…

Warnings: 18+, smut, sexual content, rough sex (not for me, but maybe you) oral, rut, slight bit of bondage, p in v, not the best grammar).

Word count: 2k

————————————————————————

It was a quiet evening at the Hazbin hotel. You were sat in the lobby flicking through an old recipe book you had found on the sprawling bookshelves, hoping to find something new to make everyone for dinner tomorrow. You glanced up from your book periodically just to see what everyone was up to. Nifty was wondering around, dusting every nook and cranny while muttering to herself. She relished in tormenting any roaches that she stumbled across during her duties. Angel Dust was sat at the bar speaking quietly with Husk. “Get a room you two” you thought to yourself as you could see Angel leaning closer and closer towards Husk as the night went on. Charlie and Vaggie you presumed would be upstairs coming up with the next “fantastic” team building exercise for tomorrow. And as for Sir Pentious, who knows what batshit crazy stuff he was up to…

After scanning the room your eyes fell back down to the pages of your book, but you felt distracted by how heavy the air suddenly felt. You had felt it building for the last few days, like the air was filled with static and something was brewing… But you just thought that was just Hell for you, something ominous happened everyday! With a small shake of your head you continued with your recipe searching.

“There is a wonderful recipe for Jambalaya in that book y’know” a statically voice chimed, “not as good as mine of course”. You looked up from your book and saw two familiar red eyes staring back at you, as if they were looking into your very soul.“Hello Alastor” you said cheerfully, trying to disguise just how much the Radio Demon had made you jump. Despite his fearsome appearance and sadistic nature you were very fond of him. He was always very good company and you had spent many a night shooting the breeze and laughing with him at the bar. “How are you this evening?” you said warmly.

“How kind of you to ask my dear” Alastor said, smiling devilishly as always.

“I’ve been better” he said sounding almost pained. Which was very unlike him at all.

“Oh no what’s wrong?” You said almost taken aback, the Radio Demon was always on cloud 9 (as much as you can be in hell). Alastor slowly stood up and leaned down towards you, his mouth just an inch from your ear. “Something you can maybe help me with Mon Cheri”. His hot breath in your ear sent a shiver down your spine. He stood up sharply, his eyes still burning into you. “Meet me in my room in 15 minutes, don’t worry about knocking. I’ll be expecting you.” And with a flash of black smoke he was gone. You sat there for a minute, face flushed, heart racing. Whatever could the Radio Demon want with you?

You pondered outside Alastair’s door a moment exactly 14 minutes after he left you in the downstairs lobby. You didn’t want to keep the Radio Demon waiting, but knots were building in your stomach. What did he want with you? You’d heard of the all the deals he had made in the past with poor wayward souls of hell. Is that what he wanted from you? Your Soul?

You took a deep breath and grasped the brass doorknob, twisting it carefully to not make a noise before gingerly stepping into the room. “Alastor?” You chimed nervously as you closed the door silently behind you. You turned and stepped into the room taking everything in. The room was warmly lit, with old books and various flora and fauna filling the ceiling high shelves. A grand 4 poster bed adorned with red satin sheets sat against the middle of the wall to the left of you. You walked forward and stopped in line with the end of the bed when you finally clocked Alastor stood looking over the balcony at the almost-full moon. His red hair almost looking ablaze in the moonlight. His jacket and bow tie were resting on top of the stone banister of the balcony. You had never seen him looking so informal.

“Nice of you to join me my dear” Alastor said cheerfully, his back still to you. You could feel the air was now saturated with static, the intensity of it made your pulse quicken.

“You wanted to see me?” you said, no longer being able to hide the nervousness in your voice.

“Yes my dear, and because you came with such hast I will not keep you in the dark much longer. “You see…” he continued to gaze up at the moon. “You see where I was born it is now Autumn. And although we don’t see the seasons change in hell, for some reason I can feel this change every single year. And Autumn…” He trailed off almost contemplating his next words.“Autumn is the season when some animals have certain…” Before finishing his sentence he turned to face you. “Desires.” He said smirking.

Was the Radio Demon asking what you thought? Did he want your body? Before you could contemplate what he was saying any longer he had appeared in front of you, his eyes aglow. “I know you can feel the static my dear” he mused. “And I definitely know you have secretly desired this”. Alastor wasn’t wrong, since arriving in hell you hadn’t ever even had so much a thought about anyone; except Alastor. There was just something about him. You titled your face up to meet the Demon’s gaze, the tension now palpable. “Ok, let me help you Alastor” you said sweetly, your heart racing from the excitement.

Barely as you finished your sentence Alastors lips came crashing into yours and your lips instinctively moved with his. You opened your mouth to allow his tongue to snake in, the passion of the kiss sending heat rushing down your body. His clawed hands caressed your face before gently sliding down your neck and gripping your shirt. With one swift pull in either direction your shirt was ripped open. “Haha!” Alastor laughed nervously, “A bit lost in the moment, I will pay to have a new one tailored of course”. He said charmingly before carefully undoing the button of your trousers and sliding them down gently, exposing your simple black underwear. The Radio Demon looked you up and down “just perfect” he purred. “May I?” He said, his eyes gesturing towards your bra and underwear. His formality took you back slightly, but you guessed no matter how sadistic Alastor could be he was a gentleman when it came to the ladies. “Of course” you said seductively, you couldn’t wait to have him.

He removed your bra and underwear as gently as possible, his claws fumbling with the clasp of your bra a moment. Making you both chuckle like teenagers. When your breasts were exposed his eyes seemed to glow brighter as he bent down to have a taste. You moaned lightly as you could feel his tongue twirling slowly around each nipple. His hand reaching down to place two fingers between your now soaking lips. A low moan came out of him as he felt how ready you were. He removed his fingers and clicked them and in an instant his shirt and trousers were gone, before you he stood in just a pair of black boxers. His chest was adorned with thick black and red hair which trailed down to the large yearning bulge in his tight boxers.

He scooped you up and carried you to the bed as if you weighed nothing. He gently placed you down and moved down the bed, his head between your thighs. “Let’s see how you taste” he whispered seductively before licking slowly up the length of your slit. His Antlers has grown large and in the heat of the moment you grabbed hold of them. “Ah ah ah” the demon teased, “you may look but not touch”. With that green glowing chains appeared around your wrists and pinned you to the headboard. The buck then continue to taste you, circling your clit with his masterful tongue as you lay there squirming. It was all starting to get too much. “Alastor.” You painted. “Please fuck me”.

Alastor removed his head from between you thighs and sat up on his knees. He looked down and smiled cheekily “I guess it is time we both got what we wanted” and with a click of his fingers the green shackles disappeared, along with his boxers. Revealing his engorged cock which was glistening wet in anticipation. He leant down to kiss you while getting himself into position, each kiss still as meltingly passionate as the first. He grabbed just below the tip of his manhood and thrust it inside you. You squealed involuntarily from the sudden pain, annoyed at yourself as you didn’t want to come across as weak in front of the demon. “I’m sorry my Doe” Alastor cooed. He slowed his rhythm and gently eased himself into you. “I didn’t expect you to be so tight, what a delight you are” he purred.

After a few more gentle, but still painful thrusts the stinging began to melt away into pleasure and you both began moaning in delight at every thrust. You gazed up at the handsome demon and still couldn’t believe he wanted you! “Oh Y/N” he growled as his thrusts became deeper and faster. You could feel him hitting your sweet spot with perfect rhythm. “Please don’t stop Alastor!” You moaned. He continued his pace with perfect precision and you could feel your orgasm brewing, a few more thrusts and that was it - pure ecstasy. Your legs tightened around his back, lightly brushing his tail and your cunt convulsed around his cock with otherworldly pleasure. As the pleasure sadly dulled Alastor could take no more, he swiftly pulled out of you before grabbing your hand and pulling you up “on all fours please my dear” he begged. You faced away from him and placed your pussy in the air, leaning your head down and arching your back. He entered you swiftly, grabbing your hips, claws digging in animalistic-ally. As the thrusts quickened the demon began to moan in pleasure before finally he reached his peak. You could feel him come inside you “Oh Y/N!” He moaned. The static in his voice wavering. He collapsed onto you back and you both just stayed there for a moment trying to get your breath back.

A few moments passed and Alastor retreated from you, laying himself down on the satin pillows. His antlers shrinking back to their normal size as his head hit the pillow. “Ah that was wonderful, I’m absolutely shattered” he chuckled before yawning and reaching his arm out to pull you onto his chest. His nose nestled into your hair breathing in the sweaty scent of you. You snuggled into him, wanting the moment to last forever. “Sorry my dear, but I must be getting to sleep, one needs their rest to make sure their voice is fit for radio!” He smiled. “So I will have to bid you goodnight. Please feel free to grab one of my white shirts and I will get a new one tailored for you in the morning.” He said sleepily. Reluctantly you released yourself from the Demon’s soft warm chest and began dressing yourself, picking the closest looking shirt to what you were wearing from the Demon’s wardrobe. You didn’t really want to be caught wearing Alastors clothes by the other guests…

Once you looked as respectful as you could after the night’s events you slowly walked towards the door. As you were about to grab the doorknob you heard Alastor whisper, “That was a lot of fun my Deer.” You turned to see him gazing admiring at you. “Rest assured it will be happening again. Goodnight my little Doe.”

“Goodnight Alastor” you said, your heart rate quickening once again from the words that just left his mouth.

You quietly opened the door and exited into the dark lobby. You leaned against the door for a moment and let out a heavy sigh.

“The Radio Demon wants me?” you mused to yourself as a wicked grin spread across your lips.

All instalments:

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 3

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language, drug use and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19

Law

Zoro-ya…

Zoro

DON'T.

Law

We've passed by the same block thrice.

Zoro growls. His fists clench as he continues to stubbornly walk ahead of the other man.

Law

Are you seriously this hopeless at directions?

Zoro

Shut up!! We're here.

Law cautiously looks around. His assumption was correct–the green-head is an idiot.

Law

We're in a damp back alley that smells like piss, in the middle of the night, behind some–

Just as Law is about to take another step, a couple of drunken men get roughly thrown out from a tavern and onto the stone footpath in front of him. The bouncer yells unruly curses their way and slams the door behind him. Law sighs, exasperated, and proceeds to follow Zoro, stepping over the writhing drunkards without a care.

Law

Lovely. Look, just tell me where you want to go and I'll take us there. We've wasted enough time already. Are you even sure that we’re on the right island?

Zoro

Shut up. This is the right place. I’m sure of it…this time.

Oh good, they haven't cleared it out yet.

Zoro confidently walks towards a large metal rubbish bin behind yet another shoddy tavern. He readjusts the swords around his waist, and jumps up onto the container. The top half of his body hangs over the opening and the bottom half flails his legs to offset his balance to make sure he doesn't fall all the way in.

Disgusted, Law covers his face with his arm, glaring at Zoro's behind.

Law

You said you can get us in touch with the Pirate King.

Zoro ignores the man and proceeds to dig through the trash, arms deep. Some of the contents spill over the edge, and some he chucks in random directions by hand.

Law

Ugh… Is digging through the trash really how we get to him? It took us two whole days to travel just to get here for this?

Zoro

FOUND YOU!

With a couple of kicks in the air, Zoro's feet fall on the ground. He has his hands cupped together close to his chest. He quickly shuffles past Law, avoiding eye contact, and begins to whisper into his hands as he finds a quiet dark corner while his back is turned towards the other man.

Zoro

I need you working for me now. Come on.

…

I'm sorry I threw you away. I was afraid that you were tapped. Or that you'll explode.

…

C'mon. Just…I'll feed you extra or something. What do you guys like again?

Law's patience is wearing very thin. He approaches Zoro, tapping him on the shoulder with the handle of his own sword.

Law

Zoro-ya, what's going on?

Zoro jolts. He turns his head to look at Law over his shoulder. His ears have turned red. In the palm of his hand, two tiny curious orbs peek over at the doctor.

Law blinks in surprise, looking at the transponder snail with two curly brows above its eyes.

—

At the other end of the line, a den-den mushi with one eye awakens from its peaceful nap.

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

A delicate hand answers the call. He lifts the snail’s handset close to his face.

Sanji

Hello?

My beloved! What can I do for you?

Mhmm… Uh-huh. Huh.

That sounds like fun. Sure, I'll help you.

I'll see you soon, my love.

Den-den Mushi

Click

The call put Sanji in a pleasant mood. He is on his bed, reading a book on his stomach while smoking a joint. The one-eyed transponder snail readjusts its shell happily before hiding inside itself comfortably for another long snooze. Sanji thinks that's a great idea, and snuggles himself further in the overly large pink feather coat that draped over him like a blanket, bumping the wavy red sunglasses that sat on his forehead.

Doflamingo shifts in reaction. He is splayed naked next to him with his hands behind his head, resting comfortably against an especially large pillow that looks proportional to his massive figure.

Doflamingo

“My beloved,” hmm? Who was it?

Sanji

None of your god damn business, you ugly fuck.

Doflamingo lets out a deep sinister chuckle.

Doflamingo

This your new toy?

Sanji

He used to be.

Doflamingo

The swordsman, eh? I'm glad to hear that you're making progress.

Sanji

Thanks, cunt.

Doflamingo turns his head slightly, nodding at Sanji's hand with the stick.

Doflamingo

Pass it here.

Sanji stretches his hand and gently places the joint between Doflamingo's lips, giving him a chance to take a long deep drag.

As thanks, Doflamingo holds the air in his lungs, leans over and captures Sanji's lips onto his to breathe the smoke directly into his mouth, making the other man moan deliciously. He takes the hint and pushes further in, shoving his long pointed tongue further down his throat.

Sanji lets him flip him onto his back, welcoming his full weight by spreading his legs wide so the large man can fit between his figure. He opens his mouth, giving him further access.

After a few moments of exchanging deep penetrating kisses, Sanji exhales the smoke out through his nose. He pulls back slightly to look Doflamingo in the eyes.

Sanji

Don't touch him, okay?

Doflamingo

You're no fun.

Sanji

I'm serious.

At this point, Doflamingo knows when he can push his luck and when he can't, especially with that tone in his voice. He raises a hand, telling the other man that he won't bother him further about it. Shifting back onto his pillow, he returns his gaze to the blue and the green-haired commanders standing guard by the doorway. They'd been assigned to make sure that he behaves himself which is the usual routine, but nevertheless he finds it entertaining that they always refuse to watch the show directly in front of them or make any eye contact at all.

Doflamingo 

Think the blue one will actually let me have a go at him this time?

Sanji

Only if you want your dick bitten off, darling.

----------

A little drink to quench the thirst. Doffy is a big boy.