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foreverdolly · 1 year ago

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ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part I 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking. (needs to be edited, so please excuse any temporary errors!)

word count: 5.3k

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The ancient walls of Castle Caladan were a fortress, the long winding halls a labyrinth to those unfamiliar with its layout. You had tried feigning sleep when you had been made aware of the surprise guest’s arrival, a one “reverend mother”- as your mother referred to her. The cool air from the hallway nipped at your exposed arm, which currently hung limply over the side of the bed.

“She’s even smaller than your son, Jessica.” The voice sounded more like a wheeze- and it certainly didn’t belong to anyone you had ever met before.

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother.

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious.

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.”

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger.

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early.

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast.

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free.

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie.

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home.

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar.

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals.

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries.

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed.

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience.

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you.

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress.

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind.

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand.

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you.

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.”

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling.

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you.

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door.

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead.

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you.

“As they have been taught, your reverence.”

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years.

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down.

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.”

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection.

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you.

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful.

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before.

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door.

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you.

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face.

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you.

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?”

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one.

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down.

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting.

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat.

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction.

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight.

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep.

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.”

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head.

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.”

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room.

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen.

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful. “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime.

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different?

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different.

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew.

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with.

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing.

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap.

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively.

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face.

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke.

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.”

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for.

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly.

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul.

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted.

“Soon.”

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up.

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation.

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly.

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent.

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better.

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right.

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach.

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence.

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive.

But god, you wanted to live.

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer.

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front.

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression.

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view.

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability.

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd.

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime.

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago.

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you.

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?”

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes.

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side.

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements.

The two of you were communicating.

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?”

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you.

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days.

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child.

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him. He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress.

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in.

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother.

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it.

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of.

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves.

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position.

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you.

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin.

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this.

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime.

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge.

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?”

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter.

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing.

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.”

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame.

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir.

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.”

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough.

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?”

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before.

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed.

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain.

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover.

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer.

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying.

Animal, indeed.

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

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A/N: this chapter was plot heavy, I know, however it was crucial to give you guys some background information so that I can better build tension. the beautiful dividers were created by @ kitsunecafe!

#feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x reader #dune part 2 #dune #austin butler #austin butler x reader #smut #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune x reader #dune fanfiction #austin butler fic #feyd rautha fic

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ladadiida · 2 years ago

Text

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

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theetherealbloom · 1 year ago

Text

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY

Summary: Your soulmate’s birthday is written on your arm, and it just happened to be the day the world ended.

Pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Soulmate AU, Apocalypse, ANGST, Fluff, Infected, Violence, Scratching, Age-Gap (the reader is in her 20s) Romance, Unrequited, Longing, Yearning, Secrets, Injury, Blood, Jealousy, Secret Glances, Metaphors, Character Death/s, Raiders, Ambush, Hospital, Stress, Hurt-To-Comfort,

Word Count: 7k

A/N: I 1000% came up with this one night while scrolling through prompts and AUs I could do for Joel. I saw the Soulmate AU and I was like “oh, yeah,” *evil laugh* and then I heard the snippet for I love you, I’m Sorry and I was like, “yep, perfect, time to go through pain :D”

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

| Main Masterlist |

September 26, 1967.

The date emblazoned on your wrist felt like a cruel joke, a bitter reminder of a world that had crumbled around you. The small pulse of the glow on your wrist thrummed, a haunting echo of the past. September 26 was outbreak day. The day the end of the world had come crashing down, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake. The inked numbers throbbed on your skin, a constant reminder that your soulmate was out there, somewhere in this apocalyptic wasteland.

You traced the numbers on your wrist, the ink seeming darker today, wondering if you’d ever meet the person who was meant for you. What kind of person could they be? Were they strong, gentle, kind, or hardened by the harsh world?

Hiding the mark from Joel for almost a decade took more than just care; it took an absolute miracle. You met Joel, Tess, and Tommy on your way to the Boston QZ. When you saw Joel’s wrist and the date there, you almost stopped breathing. Your birthdate on his skin was an unexpected blow. The ink on your wrist seemed to burn, yearning to connect with Joel. But his mark didn’t seem to react the same way.

When Joel and Tess started sleeping together, the walls between your apartments were paper-thin which seemed to amplify every intimate sound. You often found yourself wandering the hallways late at night, evading FEDRA officers, sitting on the rooftop, looking up at the empty night sky, stars twinkling, the moon bright. You wished for something good in a world gone bad.

You always wore long sleeves, even in unbearable heat. If you wore a short-sleeved shirt, you never took off your jacket, always coming up with some insane excuse about how cozy it was. It had become second nature, a routine you hardly thought about anymore.

As you kept your head down and worked, the grime and sweat accumulates on your skin. In exchange for your labor, you were given ration cards to obtain basic necessities.

"If it's so hot, why don't you just take off the damn jacket?" Joel gruffly asks, his irritation evident in his tone.

You stay silent and shrug, avoiding eye contact as you try to walk away to the next station, hoping to distance yourself from him. But he grabs your wrist, causing you to yank it away in surprise. "Joel, what the hell?"

Joel's tone is sharp and accusatory, causing you to instinctively flinch. "You're being awfully quiet," he scoffs.

You meet his eyes, trying to hide the turmoil inside. "What?"

"Something's off with you. What aren't you telling me?" Joel steps closer, invading your personal space, and you instinctively take a step back.

Panic sets in as you desperately search for a way out. You can't tell him the truth, so you grit your teeth and force out a lie. "I'm just tired."

"You're lying." Joel's words cut through you like a knife, making your heart race and palms sweat. The intensity of his gaze makes it clear that he won't let this go easily.

You try to remain composed, forcing a small smile. "I'm just tired from working all day."

Joel narrows his eyes, clearly not buying your excuse. "Bullshit," he says bluntly.

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of the lie in the pit of your stomach. "I promise, it's nothing."

Joel takes a step closer, making you back up against the wall. Your heart races as you feel trapped under his intense stare. "I know when something's bothering you," he says softly, his tone filled with concern.

You look down at your feet, unable to meet his gaze any longer. You've been hiding this secret for so long that the thought of telling anyone, especially Joel, terrifies you.

"Please," Joel pleads, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. "Just talk to me."

"I have to go," you urgently declare, heart pounding as you turn and bolt away, ignoring Joel's desperate calls for you to stop.

Your heart races as you run through the dark, narrow alleys, trying to put as much distance between you and Joel as possible. The fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins drive you forward, but at the same time, your mind is racing with thoughts of guilt for leaving Joel behind.

"Why did I have to lie?" you think to yourself. "Why couldn't I just tell him the truth?"

But deep down, you know why. You know that if you were to tell anyone about the secret burdening you, it could cost both of your lives. And as much as it pains you to not tell Joel, there is no other choice.

The memories hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you back to that moment in time. But this time, it feels like you're watching from a distance, like a bystander in your own body.

"You can convince them. You always do." The words echo through your mind as Tess begs you and Joel for help. Tears stream down her face as she pleads, "You have to get her there. Keep her safe. Make things right." Joel shakes his head stubbornly, but Tess doesn't give up. "Please, Joel. Please say yes."

Everything feels surreal as you remember the infected pounding at the door, their screams like a constant reminder of what's at stake. And then Tess is gone, sacrificing herself with the rest of the infected to save the others.

Tess, your friend died that day.

But then everything shifts and you're in a different place, a house belonging to Bill and Frank. Ellie is reading a letter aloud, and you and Joel are there listening. "I used to hate the world," Ellie says, "but I was wrong. When I met my soulmate, there was one person worth saving. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do and God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep…”

You remember Joel storming out of the house with the letter, his grief and pain palpable in every movement he makes. It's a bitter taste in both of your mouths, but it's also a reminder of why you keep fighting – because there are people worth protecting and worth saving.

Joel may not even realize it, but you've been waiting for him your entire life. And the same goes for Joel.

The scene changes once more; the deafening sound of gunshots pierces your ears and suddenly you're back in the hospital. You're behind Joel, gripping a rifle tightly as you navigate through the chaos and bodies scattered throughout the halls.

Suddenly, you startle awake. Your heart races in your chest, and sweat trickles down your skin as you struggle to catch your breath.

You’re not out there. You’re in Jackson. You’re safe.

You briefly close your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of fear and loss from the dream. It had been two years since that fateful day in the hospital, and you were now living in Jackson with Joel and Ellie.

You gasped for breath and clutched your chest, trying to steady yourself with one hand on the softness of the sheets. You clambered out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, washing your hands and then your face. The cool water felt refreshing against your skin as you wiped it with a towel, trying to calm your nerves.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you saw the exhaustion written all over your face. The restlessness was evident in the dark circles under your eyes, and your hair was in a state of disarray.

"I look like I've been through hell," you muttered to yourself, sighing heavily.

You decided to take a shower, hoping it would help numb the pain. As the water cascaded over you, you let yourself sink into your thoughts, not really focusing on anything except the sound of water hitting your skin. Your bleary vision noticed the small cracks in the tiles on the wall.

Once you dried off and got dressed for the day, you headed downstairs to your small kitchen. The space had seen better days—cabinet doors hung slightly askew, and the pantry door refused to close all the way no matter how hard you tried.

You sighed, pushing the pantry door shut one more time before giving up and grabbing a mug from the chipped shelf. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, the bitter aroma filling the air as you took a tentative sip, savoring the warmth.

Later that morning, you stepped out of your little house in Jackson, pausing to take in the crisp air. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a soft golden light over the town. You noticed the creaky and loose steps of your porch under your feet, each step emitting a groan of protest. The railings wobbled as you gripped them for balance, making a mental note to add them to your growing list of things that needed fixing.

It was just about daybreak, the sun slowly peeking over the horizon, casting a golden glow. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your jeans, the cozy sweater you wore providing some comfort as you made your way to the stables.

You were part of the barn support staff on rotation and consistently helped out in the greenhouse. Sometimes, you were out on patrol, but today was a barn day.

As you cleaned the barn and took care of the horses, you unconsciously rolled up your sleeves, figuring no one else would be up this early. You were alone in the stables, or so you thought.

Lifting a hand to wipe the sweat from your brow, you sighed. Suddenly, you heard the sound of something dropping and a familiar voice exclaiming, "Holy shit!"

You whipped your head around to the source of the sound and saw Ellie standing there, her eyes wide as she stared directly at your wrist.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, hastily pulling your sleeve down.

Ellie took a step closer, her curiosity piqued. "Is that... a soulmate mark?"

You avoided her gaze, feeling exposed. "It's nothing, Ellie. Just... don't worry about it."

"Nothing?!" She looked incredulous. "You’ve been hiding it all this time. Why didn't you tell me?"

You sighed, the weight of your secret feeling heavier than ever. "It's complicated, Ellie. Joel... Joel doesn't know."

Ellie’s eyes widened even more. "Joel? As in... Joel?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words. The truth was out now, and there was no going back.

Ellie moved into your space, her curiosity getting the better of her. Without warning, she grabbed your wrist, yanking it towards her. Her eyes zeroed in on the birthdate etched into your skin, her face a mix of shock and realization.

"September 26, 1967," she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, eyes wide. "That's Joel's birthday."

You tried to pull your wrist back, but Ellie held on tight, her grip firm and unyielding. "Ellie, please," you started, your voice shaky.

"Dude," she cut you off, her tone urgent and insistent. "You need to fucking tell him."

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "Ellie, it's not that simple," you began, but she shook her head, not letting you finish.

"Not that simple?" she repeated, incredulous. "You've got his birthday on your wrist. You're soulmates! How much more complicated can it be?"

Your shoulders slumped as you finally managed to free your wrist from her grip. You rubbed the tender skin, feeling exposed and vulnerable. "You don't understand," you said softly. "Joel... he's been through so much. And so have I. Telling him now, after all these years... it might just make things worse."

Ellie's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "You think keeping it a secret is any better? He deserves to know. You both do."

You turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Joel... he's moved on, he doesn’t want anything to do with relationships, and I don’t want to disrupt that."

Ellie snorted, crossing her arms. "Moved on? Joel’s not exactly the moving on type. He carries everything with him, all the time. You think he doesn't feel something for you?"

You glanced back at her, tears welling up in your eyes. "And what if he doesn't? What if he sees this and... and it means nothing to him?"

Ellie sighed, stepping closer and placing a hand on your shoulder. "You'll never know if you don't try. And trust me, he’s stronger than you think. You both are."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, you just stood there, lost in thought. Finally, you nodded, a small, tentative movement. "I'll think about it," you whispered.

Ellie squeezed your shoulder gently before letting go. "Good. Because secrets have a way of coming out, one way or another. And it's better if it comes from you."

As she turned to leave, you stared down at the date on your wrist, the ink seeming to pulse with a life of its own.

Maybe Ellie was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

You sat alone on the bench in the food hall, picking at your meal and lost in your thoughts when a familiar drawl pulled you back to reality.

"Hey, darlin’."

The sound of Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat, and a sudden warmth spread through your body. You nearly choked on your food, glancing up to see him settling next to you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Joel,” you sputtered, trying to regain your composure.

Joel chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No, not at all.”

He leaned back, his shoulder brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “How’s your day been?”

You shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Busy, as always. Barn duties and all that.”

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on your face. “Yeah, I hear you’ve been workin’ hard. Always see you runnin’ around, takin’ care of things.”

A soft blush crept up your cheeks under his scrutiny. “Just trying to keep busy, you know? What about you?”

“Same old,” he replied, his voice low and soothing. “Patrols, repairs, keepin’ an eye on Ellie. She’s a handful.”

You laughed, the sound easing some of the tension. “She definitely keeps us on our toes.”

Joel’s eyes softened as he watched you, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The bustling noise of the food hall became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

“You look tired,” he said gently, concern evident in his voice. “Everything alright?”

You hesitated, the weight of your secret pressing down on you. “Just… a lot on my mind lately.”

Joel reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm. The touch was brief but sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes searched yours, concern evident. “You sure you’re alright?”

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat, but you forced a smile. “Mmm... yeah. Just going through a to-do list in my mind right now.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving your face. “Anythin’ that needs fixin’, darlin’?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just a few kitchen cabinets... the hinges squeak, and the pantry door doesn’t close all the way. Also a couple of loose steps and a wobbly railing too.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small smile. “Well, why don’t I take a look? Might be an easy fix.”

Your heart fluttered at the offer, a mix of gratitude and the thrill of being near him. “You don’t have to, Joel. I know you’re busy.”

Joel chuckled softly, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment longer before he let go. “I’ve always got time for you. Besides, can’t have you fightin’ with those cabinets every day.”

You laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Alright, if you insist.”

Joel’s eyes twinkled with a warm light. “I’ll swing by tomorrow mornin’, if that’s alright with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of spending more time with him. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’d appreciate the help.”

He gave a slow, easy smile that made your stomach flutter. “Great. I’ll bring my tools and we’ll get this place sorted.”

The way he said “we” filled you with a sense of comfort and belonging. “Thanks, Joel. It really means a lot.”

Joel stepped closer, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “Anytime, darlin’. You know I’m here for you.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I know.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, the air thick with unspoken words and the electric tension between you. Finally, he took a step back, breaking the spell.

“I should get goin’,” he said, his voice a bit huskier than usual. “Gotta talk to Tommy ‘bout somethin’.”

“Right, of course,” you replied, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a thrill of anticipation for tomorrow.

Joel lingered by the table, a hand on your shoulder. “Take care, okay?”

“You too, Joel,” you said softly.

He nodded and turned to leave, but not before giving you one last, lingering look. You watched him walk away, your heart pounding and your mind racing with thoughts of what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning, you were up at dawn, nerves and excitement thrumming through you as you tidied up the kitchen. Each movement was deliberate, an attempt to keep your mind occupied. But no matter how much you tried to focus, you couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, your heart racing each time the hands inched closer to Joel’s promised arrival.

As you finished your second cup of coffee, the knock on the door startled you, sending a jolt through your already frazzled nerves. You took a deep breath to steady yourself and opened the door to find Joel standing there, a toolbox in one hand and a warm, familiar smile on his face.

“Good mornin’,” he greeted, stepping inside, his presence filling the room.

“Morning, Joel,” you replied, the rush of warmth at seeing him making your voice tremble slightly.

He set the toolbox down and looked around the kitchen with a critical eye. “Alright, let’s see what we’re dealin’ with here.”

As Joel began inspecting the cabinets and pantry door, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. Every subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt drew your attention, and you found it hard to look away.

“Found the problem,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Just needs a little tightening and some oil.”

You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the magnetic pull of his proximity. “I’m glad it’s an easy fix.”

Joel smiled, his eyes locking with yours, sending a spark of electricity through you. “Told you it wouldn’t be a problem.”

As he worked, you found yourself drawn to him, moving closer under the pretense of handing him tools or holding a flashlight. Each accidental brush of your hands sent a jolt through you, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. You felt your pulse quicken every time his fingers grazed yours.

“There,” Joel said finally, standing up and testing the now-silent hinges. “Good as new.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and a little breathless from being so close to him. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He chuckled, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just doin’ what I can.”

You both stood there for a moment, the kitchen suddenly feeling too small and too big all at once. The silence between you was heavy with everything you weren’t saying, a tension that seemed to thicken the air.

“Joel,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I really appreciate this. More than you know.”

He looked at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart ache. “I’m glad I could help. And I meant what I said yesterday—you don’t have to do everything alone.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you took a tentative step closer, the distance between you feeling like an unbearable chasm. “It’s hard to ask for help sometimes. But knowing you’re here... it makes a difference.”

Joel reached out, his fingers lightly grazing your arm, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll always be here for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. You felt drawn to him, the unspoken connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. Without thinking, you closed the remaining distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His breath hitched as you moved closer, the air between you charged with a heady mix of anticipation and yearning. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between holding back and giving in. The warmth of his body so close to yours was intoxicating, and you felt your resolve weakening with each passing second.

“Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with all the longing you’d kept hidden for so long.

He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. “I—”

Just as the air between you thickened with unspoken words, a sudden, sharp knock on the door interrupted the moment. You both turned to see a young woman standing there, her eyes lighting up when she saw Joel.

“Hey, Joel!” she called out, her tone annoyingly bright. “I heard you were here and thought I’d bring over some coffee. Figured you could use a break.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. “Uh, thanks, Vanessa,” he replied, his voice strained. “But we’re kinda in the middle of something.”

Vanessa’s eyes flicked to you, her gaze turning cold. “Oh, I see. Well, maybe I could help?”

Before you could step away, Joel’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close. The unexpected gesture sent a shiver through you, and you looked up at him, your heart pounding.

“We’re busy, Vanessa,” Joel said firmly, his hand resting possessively on your hip. “Thanks for the offer, but we’ve got it covered.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in obvious jealousy. “Right. Well, if you change your mind...” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on you with a mixture of disdain and envy before she finally turned and walked away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Joel’s grip on your waist loosened, but he didn’t let go. His eyes met yours, the intensity in them making your pulse race.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured, his voice low. “Didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “It’s okay. I appreciate the backup.”

Joel chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against your side in a way that sent tingles down your spine. “Guess we should get back to work, huh?”

You nodded, reluctantly stepping back, though his touch lingered in your mind. “Yeah, the step and railing on the porch still need fixing.”

Together, you moved outside, the tension from earlier still simmering between you. As Joel inspected the loose step, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. The way his hands moved with such confidence and skill, the way his brow furrowed in concentration—it all captivated you.

“Can you hold this steady for me?” he asked, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded, stepping closer to help. Your hands brushed against his as you held the wood in place, and the contact sent a jolt through you. The proximity, the shared task, the quiet intimacy of the moment—it all felt like a dance, each movement charged with unspoken feelings.

“Almost got it,” Joel murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and it took all your willpower not to lean into him.

Finally, he tightened the last screw and tested the step, making sure it was secure. “There. That should do it.”

You smiled, genuinely grateful and more than a little breathless. “Thank you, Joel. You’re a lifesaver.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “Just doin’ what I can.”

As you both stood there on the porch, the morning sun casting a golden glow around you, the world seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. Everything you wanted to say but didn't wash over you in the awkward stillness, and the feelings you shared were nearly visible.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape as you and your patrol partner, Mark, scouted the perimeter. He was easy-going, always ready with a joke or a reassuring word. You found his presence comforting, a steady rock amidst the chaos.

“Think we’ll find anything today?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

Mark grinned, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Nah, it’s been quiet for a while now. Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Just as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out. The next few moments were a blur of chaos and violence. Raiders, hidden in the underbrush, launched their attack. Mark managed to shoot one off you, his quick reflexes saving your life. But then, he was hit, and you watched in horror as he crumpled to the ground.

“Mark!” you screamed, dropping to your knees beside him. Blood poured from a wound in his chest, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. You pressed your hands against the wound, desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. “Stay with me, Mark. Please, stay with me.”

But his eyes glazed over, the light fading. You choked back a sob, fury and grief surging through you as the raiders closed in. You fought with every ounce of strength you had, slashing and stabbing, your vision blurred by tears and the pouring rain that had begun to fall. Blood and dirt smeared your face, and pain lanced through your body from multiple wounds.

The storm roared with fury, whipping the trees and lashing the ground with torrents of rain. You stumbled through the churning chaos, your clothes drenched and clinging to your skin, your muscles burning from the effort of pushing forward. Your vision blurred by the onslaught, you fought to keep moving, each step a battle against the ferocious elements. In that moment, all that mattered was survival - staying alive until the tempest passed.

It had been hours since Joel last saw them. His graying hair was in danger of being pulled out in frustration. You and Mark were supposed to be back by now. The patrol route you both took was supposed to be a shorter one.

Joel paced back and forth in the settlement, struggling to contain his anger. “Why the hell can’t I go out there, Tommy? She’s my partner, my—” He cut himself off, frustration and fear etched into his features.

Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice firm. “You’re too close to this, Joel. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”

Hours dragged by, each minute an eternity. Joel’s rage simmered, his helplessness gnawing at him. He punched the wall, his knuckles splitting, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear of losing you.

Tommy had taken a small team out to search for you and Mark, but there was still no word. The storm raged on, making it even harder to find any trace of you.

Joel’s mind raced with possibilities – had you and Mark been ambushed? Taken by the raiders? Injured and unable to make it back? His heart clenched at the thought of you hurt or worse.

He cursed himself for not going out with you both, for letting his emotions cloud his judgement. He knew better than anyone that in this world, you couldn’t afford to let your guard down. But he had let himself become complacent, too focused on protecting you rather than seeing things clearly.

Bile rises in Joel's throat, the taste of fear and worry leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He swallows hard, trying to push the feeling down as he anxiously waits for any news.

The bitter taste of regret and fear lingered on Joel’s tongue, each thought of what could happen to you making his stomach turn.

The metallic taste of blood was thick on Joel's tongue as he bit down on his lip, trying to hold back his emotions. The rancid taste of fear and worry lingered in his mouth, coating his throat and making it hard to swallow.

Meanwhile, Tommy pushed through the storm, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness. The wind howled around him, carrying with it the distant echoes of thunder. He called out your name, his voice barely audible above the roar of the tempest. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and determination, each step sinking into the mud as he trudged forward.

The rain came down in sheets, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. Lightning flashed, illuminating the twisted branches and slick ground for brief moments. He stumbled over fallen logs and through thick underbrush, the storm making every movement a struggle.

Tommy's eyes darted around, searching desperately. He felt a gnawing dread in the pit of his stomach, a fear that he was too late. Then, in the distance, he saw a figure lying still. His breath caught in his throat as he hurried over, praying that it wasn't you.

As he got closer, he recognized the bodies of the raiders, their lifeless forms sprawled across the muddy ground. The sight was gruesome, the aftermath of a brutal fight. His heart sank when he saw Mark, his friend and comrade, lying motionless with a fatal wound. He forced himself to look away, his focus now solely on finding you.

Finally, his eyes landed on you, crumpled and barely breathing. His heart pounded in his chest as he knelt beside you. Blood soaked your clothes, mingling with the dirt and rain, creating a grim tapestry that told the story of your fierce struggle.

“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy murmured, his voice trembling with urgency and concern. He gently lifted your head, cradling you in his arms. You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open to reveal dazed, pain-filled eyes.

“Joel?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. The confusion and pain in your gaze made Tommy’s heart clench.

Tommy’s eyes widened as he saw the mark on your wrist, illuminated by a flash of lightning. It was the same date he had seen on Joel’s wrist—the same mark. Realization hit him like a freight train, the pieces falling into place with a sudden clarity. “It’s Tommy,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve got you. Just hold on.”

But you had already slipped back into unconsciousness, your body limp in his arms. Tommy’s heart raced as he gently but urgently lifted you, securing you on his horse. He mounted behind you, holding you close to keep you steady, and spurred the horse into a gallop.

The ride back was a blur of rain and darkness, each second stretching into an eternity. The storm seemed to rage even harder, the wind whipping through the trees and the rain stinging like needles. Tommy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, fear for your life mingling with the shocking revelation of your connection to Joel.

By the time Tommy reached the settlement, his clothes were soaked through, clinging to his skin like a second, frigid layer. Every muscle in his body ached from the grueling ride and the weight of your unconscious form. The rain had not let up, and his vision was blurred by the relentless downpour. But he didn't stop, carrying you swiftly yet carefully towards the infirmary, each step a struggle against exhaustion and worry.

Joel was just by the large gate of Jackson, pacing anxiously. The moment he saw Tommy approaching with your limp body, his heart seemed to stop. His face, already drawn with worry, twisted into an expression of sheer desperation.

“Is she okay?” Joel asked frantically, his voice cracking. His eyes were wide, darting between Tommy and your pale face for any sign of hope.

“She’s alive,” Tommy said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He handed you over to the medics who were rushing to meet them. Joel instinctively moved to follow, but Tommy grabbed his arm, his grip firm and unyielding.

“Joel, wait. Look at her wrist,” Tommy urged, his voice low but insistent.

Joel’s eyes followed Tommy's gaze, landing on the mark on your wrist. Recognition hit him like a punch to the gut, the date etched into your skin unmistakable. It was the same as his. Realization dawned with a mixture of awe and dread. “Fuck,” he breathed, the weight of it crashing over him. The one person he couldn’t afford to lose was you, and now he knew why.

The medics were quick, their movements efficient as they assessed your injuries and began to prepare you for treatment. They lifted you onto a stretcher, intent on rushing you inside where they could better tend to your wounds. Joel moved to follow, his protective instincts kicking in, but the medics tried to hold him back.

“Sir, you need to let us do our job,” one of them said, a young woman with a firm but gentle voice.

“No,” Joel growled, his eyes blazing with determination and fear. “I ain’t leavin’ her side.”

Tommy stepped in, trying to reason with him. “Joel, you gotta let the doctors work.”

Joel’s fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with the effort to contain his emotions. “I can’t… I can’t lose her, Tommy,” he choked out, his voice raw with pain and anger.

“I know, but you stayin’ in there won’t help her. You’ll only be in the way,” Tommy said, his tone gentle but firm. He placed a reassuring hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to ground him. “You’ve gotta trust them to do their job. Let them help her.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes locked on the door to the infirmary where they had taken you. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be by your side, to make sure you were safe. But he knew Tommy was right. With a heavy, reluctant nod, he allowed himself to be led away, his heart aching with every step.

The minutes stretched into an eternity as they waited. Joel paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He could still see the image of you, broken and bloodied, every time he closed his eyes. The mark on your wrist haunted him, a constant reminder of the bond that tied you together. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn't bear to lose you.

Tommy stood by, watching his brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. He knew how much you meant to Joel, and the revelation of the soulmate mark only intensified that bond. He wished there was something more he could do, some way to ease Joel’s pain.

Finally, a medic emerged from the infirmary, her expression tired but relieved. “She’s stable,” she announced, and Joel felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “She’s got a long road to recovery, but she’s a fighter.”

Joel nodded, his eyes filled with gratitude and determination. “Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He would stay by your side, no matter what. The bond you shared was too precious to ever let go.

Days blurred into a haze of sterile white walls and the rhythmic beeping of machines. You drifted in and out of consciousness, each time greeted by the comforting sounds of Joel and Ellie. Joel's low, soothing voice often filled the room, whether he was talking to you or humming a soft tune. Ellie would sit by your bed, recounting stories with her usual animated flair, her voice a bright spot in the darkness.

One evening, as the storm outside mirrored the chaos within, you stirred slightly. The weight of Joel's hand on your wrist was a grounding force, his presence unwavering. He looked exhausted, his eyes heavy with worry, but he never left your side.

In one of your more lucid moments, you caught snippets of Joel's soft singing, the melody wrapping around you like a warm blanket. His voice was a balm, a tether to the world you were trying so hard to rejoin. He would often lean down to press gentle kisses to your forehead, his touch both a promise and a plea for you to come back to him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you awoke fully. Your throat was dry, and every muscle ached, but you were aware. The weight on your wrist brought your gaze to Joel. He was slumped in a chair beside your bed, his head resting on the edge, fast asleep. He looked worn out, dark circles under his eyes and a shadow of stubble on his jaw.

“You’re awake,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering open as if sensing your gaze.

“I...” Your voice came out as a croak, and you winced.

“Here, drink up,” Joel said, quickly pouring a glass of water and holding it to your lips. You drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing your parched throat.

After a few sips of water, you managed to find your voice again. “How long have I been out?” you asked, your throat feeling slightly raw from disuse.

“Almost a week,” Joel replied, his eyes never leaving yours.

“A week?” you repeated in shock. It felt like only a few hours had passed.

Joel nodded, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “You were pretty out of it for a while there.”

You felt a pang of guilt for causing so much worry and trouble for everyone. “I’m sorry,” you said softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel said firmly, his eyes filled with intensity. “Just focus on getting better.”

“I will,” you promised, grateful for his unwavering support.

The relief on Joel’s face was palpable, but as he set the glass aside, a flicker of anger flashed in his eyes. “Were you ever going to tell me?” His voice was quiet, but the intensity of his gaze was almost too much to bear.

You looked away, shame burning your cheeks. “Trust me, I know. It's always about me.”

Joel's jaw clenched. “I just… I didn’t think you could ever want me.” Your voice broke, the years of hiding and pretending catching up to you.

Joel’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek. “You’ve always been more than I deserve,” he murmured. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you struggled to breathe. “I love you…” you choked out, the words finally escaping your lips after years of being held back. “I’m sorry.”

Joel pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you sobbed. “I love you too,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

In the midst of life's storms, a quiet calm settled around you both, like discovering an oasis in the desert. Amidst chaos and pain, you found your soulmate, and love emerged as the unwavering light guiding you through the darkest nights.

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bisexualiteaa · 6 months ago

Text

Give me this dance

Alternate Silco x fem reader (fluff and smut!)

MDNI!!

Synopsis: In every timeline, you were a part of his life. Right there by his side to bring him outside of his comfort zone and show him some fun. Soon, what started as a mere dance turned into a night neither of you would forget.

Songs for inspo/to listen to while reading:

CW: slight season 2 spoilers! Established friendship, mutual pining, mutual feelings, unrequited feelings, reader is AFAB, reader is a bartender at the last drop, reader has hair, alternate Silco, softer/happier Silco, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff w/ smut, cursing, fïngering, 0ral (fem recieving), nïpple pläy, unprotected seggs, p0rn w/ feelings, rïding, cream 🥧, fluffy ending, proofread, potential spelling/grammar errors, slight OOC Silco, no use of y/n

AN: The way he looked so happy in this timeline, he looks so happy and even more handsome somehow it’s CRAZY!! 😭 Had this one in the works for a while now but it’s finally done! I hope you all enjoy! 🥹♥️

You smiled happily as you were finally able to find your way out from behind the bar, a momentary reprieve from the hustle and bustle, the demand of drink orders that had been steadily building all night. “Come dance with me! I love this song” you remarked to Silco, making his eyes widen with something akin to a look of fear. He was a horrible dancer, and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of you of all people. He looked to Vander for any bit of advice or help he could give, only earning a grin from the man in response, telling him he was on his own for this one. “I-I’m not very good at dancing I…” Silco tried to explain, stuttering terribly as your hand grabbed his upper arm, causing a blush to trickle across his face and his heart to race in his chest out of nervousness. He didn’t want to turn you down, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself in a bar full of people either. Or embarrass you, for that matter, with being such a terrible dance partner. “Me either, it’s okay! Promise I won’t judge” you reassured with a smile, the faint smell of liquor and mixers entangling with your perfume, creating a smell that was so comforting, so familiar. It was so you and so incredibly intoxicating. “C’mon, let’s have some fun! Dance with me” you tried to persuade him sweetly, gorgeous eyes looking up at him so excitedly, almost twinkling in the warm glow of the lanterns that hung around the bar. How could he possibly say no when you looked at him like that? “What’s the harm? Doubt anyone will even be lookin’” Vander jutted in, cleaning a glass as he spoke and took your side on this, hoping that maybe if Silco danced with you, he would finally tell you how he feels, possibly ending the constant back and forth cycle of mutual pining between you two for good. He was two to one now, leaving him no other choice but to relent. “I suppose I’ll step out of my comfort zone, just this once” he remarked cheekily, making you nearly jump for joy at his response, an elated smile stretching across your lips as you eagerly led him out on the floor to dance. Vander could only laugh as he watched you both act as if you were teenagers all over again, pushing the boundaries of friendship and testing the waters of romance.

You looked up at the taller man in front of you, hazel and green eyes gazing upon you with such light of a man so deeply in love. Your bright, contagious laughter filled the air as you danced to the music, caring not for anything but this moment. Who cared if anyone else was watching? Who what anyone else was thinking? If they were judging. The only person you cared about looking at you was the man you were dancing with. Seeing his eyes glued to you, smiling as he attempting to follow your pace and rhythm was all you needed. This had to be heaven, surely. “I’ve never seen you dance like this before” Silco commented with a cheeky grin, happy to see you so comfortable and carefree while in his presence. “I normally don’t, but for such a special occasion I decided to make an exception” you replied, making him laugh as you both continued to let the beat carry you, finding your feet moving nearly in sync all on their own.

Before you knew it, one dance had turned into quite a few, then quite a few turned into spending nearly all night out there getting caught up in song. Silco found himself enjoying the moment and the chance to be with you far more than he could have ever anticipated. Who knew stepping out of your bubble a little could be so much fun? Suddenly the music had taken on a much slower turn from the rest of the music that had been playing, even the lights had dropped a little to add to the almost romantic atmosphere. You’d never slow danced before, and you figured that you’d likely pulled Silco out of his element for long enough, so you took it as your sign to hop back behind the bar. However before you could, his voice stopped you. “Where are you going?” He asked softly, looking confused and almost hurt that you were going to leave. “Oh, I figured you were probably done dancing for the night so I…I thought I’d head back behind the bar. I didn’t want to force you to stay here dancing all night if it isn’t what you want” you explained, feeling a pang of guilt hit you in the chest as he looked upon you so sadly. Any chance he had to spend with you he would do in a heartbeat, so long as it was with you, he’d do just about anything. “I don’t feel forced. You’ve brought me out of my element yes, but I’ve enjoyed dancing with you. I’d be even happier to continue” he admitted wholeheartedly, making you perk up a little to hear he was enjoying himself, finding yourself a little surprised at the prospect. “Really?” You asked, voice hopeful as you looked to him, watching him shake his head yes, easing your every worry. “Would you give me this dance?” He asked bravely, hand extended out for you to take. You looked to it before looking back up at him with a blushy smile, heart feeling as if it would beat out of your chest from both excitement and anxiousness. “I’d be delighted to” you responded sweetly, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you both to a spot that allowed you enough room while also granting you a little bit of privacy compared to before. “Full disclosure, I’ve never slow danced before” you finally confessed, a little embarrassed but it only made him chuckle. “Me either, it’s okay. I won’t judge” he repeated back to you the exact same thing you’d told him when you asked him to dance, making you laugh at the witty comeback. It was only fair, you supposed. You’d brought him out of his comfort zone and showed him a great time in doing so, it was only fair to allow him to do the same for you. Besides, when would you be able to get this chance to share with him again? Better to take the opportunity, make the best of it and be able to look back on it as a memory someday than not and mourn what could have been. “Clever play, using my own words against me” you replied, making him only grin wider. “Just follow my lead” he spoke confidently, bringing your arm to loop around his neck as one of his hands rested at your hip, the other holding yours as you both stepped and swayed to the beat, keeping it simple. You couldn’t help the rouge that ran across your cheeks however that this was even happening right now. From the close proximity of your chests being pressed together, to your hands being intertwined as he looked down at you with a soft, love struck smile, all of it was so romantic. So intimate. It left you nervous, not wanting to mess up and ruin the beautiful tension that had begun to set in between you now. Yet you felt so alive, so free. It felt like one of those romantic moments you’d only ever heard of in the books you’d read. You could hardly believe it was actually real. That this was real.

You smiled up at him as you stared into his gorgeous eyes, finding your hand moving from its original place to instead come and rest along the scarred side of his cheek almost instinctively, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against the textured skin there. He was always so self conscious about his scars, especially around you. He didn’t want you to think less of him because of them, or find him less attractive because of them, often covering them with makeup to at least cover the color of the scar tissue and make it blend in with his natural skin tone better. Yet you thought that they were what made him so stunning. Paired with his piercing eyes and the confidence he carried about himself so effortlessly, even the way he dressed, everything about him was just so incredibly special. He stood out amongst the rest of the crowd. Gods he was so handsome. He was so handsome it was almost intimidating, yet you’d known him long enough to know there was no reason to be.

Your sweet gesture made his heart skip in his chest, beating harder and faster than it already had as he smiled down at you. He wondered to himself if it was loud enough for you to hear as it slammed against his sternum. You couldn’t help the way your eyes seemed to curiously flit between his and his lips occasionally, silently wondering how they would feel if they were pressed against your own. Would they be soft? They looked soft. Would they fit well against your own? You hoped to find out. It made you start to think that perhaps the slower song was chosen on purpose, strategically placed so you would dance with him to it. A plan to get you to get him out of his comfort zone, show him some fun, all while setting you both up with the perfect opportunity to speak on feelings that rested unspoken between you for far too long now. Or maybe you were just lucky enough to have fate hand you such a beautiful opportunity. Who were you to turn it down if so? “You’re quite good at this” you complimented, making him give a breathy chuckle. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for” he replied, making you hum with a sweet smile as you looped both of your arms around his neck, taking the bold step and resting your head against his chest as you continued to sway. He froze for a moment as you did, his hands finding your hips before wrapping his arms around you as it set in that you were leaned against him like this. That you felt safe enough with him to do so. It made him nearly dizzy at the thought of having you like this, to have you so close, for you to want this with him. It left him to silently thank every deity above for the opportunity as he shut his eyes and rested his chin on top of your head for a moment, allowing the both of you to sway to the rhythm and just enjoy each other’s warmth.

When the song had finally come to an end, you lifted your head up to look at him, eyes once again flickering between his gaze and his lips with that same curiosity. Only this time it was much stronger than it was before. “Thank you, for dancing with me. For…for choosing to share this moment with me” you said meekly, making him look to you as one of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin just as you’d done to him. For a moment the world was completely lost on you, it felt as if it was just the two of you here. “No matter the options, no matter the occasion I’d choose you, always” he confessed, tone so genuine, words so heartfelt that the butterflies in your stomach had returned tenfold, leaving you to bite your lip as you bit back a school-girlish giggle. If your mind wasn’t screaming at you to kiss him before, it most certainly was now. “Sil?” You inquired softly, watching as his eyes now trailed to your plush lips before returning your gaze, doing the same to you that you’d been doing to him this whole time. It nearly drove you wild, seeing the want in his eyes, the admiration. All for you. “Yes?” He asked in reply, watching a smile stretch to your lips before you spoke, looking at you expectantly. “Do us both a favor and just kiss me already, would you?” You responded in a cheeky but confident tone, making him hum in amusement at your boldness. He loved it about you, so unafraid to go for the things you wanted or that made you happy. He was honored to be that for you. “I thought you’d never ask” he answered, not wasting even a moment before his lips were on yours, finally answering all curiosities and all thoughts as he held you close. Vander gave an excited whistle and clap that left you smiling into it as you pulled him down against you a little more, showing him just how much you’d wanted this. He chuckled into it, responding by squeezing your hip as your lips melded together for a little while longer, a good handful of people cheering you both on before finally pulling apart. You smiled up at him excitedly as his hand grabbed yours, squeezing it lovingly.

“Well, as delightful as this has been, it’s about time for my shift to be over. Do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” You asked, hoping he would say yes, praying that when you went to put your apron back behind the bar and walk out, you’d be walking out with him. He tried so hard to hide his surprise and excitement at your question, but the way his brows raised a little and eyes opened a little wider didn’t go unnoticed by you, making you giggle softly as you saw it. “Are you asking me to come home with you?” He asked curiously, wanting to make sure he understood exactly what you were implying, not wishing to misread you and do something that would make you upset or assume something incorrectly. “Yes, yes I am” you replied as you looked up at him, awaiting his answer. He was dreaming, he must have been. Had you really just asked him to come home with you? “After you” he said, making you smile and giggle. “G-Great! Yeah, uhh just…let me put this behind the bar for tomorrow then we’ll head out” you replied, skittering behind the bar to quickly take off and fold your apron before tucking it away, informing Vander that you were headed home for the night. He shot you a grin and Silco a knowing glance as you walked back over to him, collecting your things before heading out the door together.

You smiled and giggled with excitement into your shared kiss as your back hit one of the walls in your home that you’d only just stepped foot in but a moment ago. You’d barely even made it in the door that was haphazardly shut with his foot, your hands running up from his chest to tangle in his neatly slicked back hair as your lips melded together in a sinful dance. His one hand rested against the wall, propping himself up with his arm and caging you in a little as the other sat at the back of your thigh, allowing your leg to rest against his hip so he could slot himself even closer to you. He’d spent long enough without you, long enough chasing circles around you, any space between you now was eliminated the moment it was noticed. You felt him slide closer to you between your legs, his other hand coming down from the wall to do the same to your other thigh, tapping it so you would hop up and wrap your legs around his hips. As you did so, he had you effectively pinned against the wall, your hips pressed against his with a moan as your tongues fought in a battle for dominance over the other. One he was delighted to let you win, allowing your tongue to explore his, the taste of whiskey, smoke and tobacco still hanging heavily from his lips. It was an addicting taste. You gasped into the kiss as he rolled his hips against yours, leaving you to pull away to rest your head against the wall as his lips trailed your neck, kissing and nipping at all your sensitive spots. He simply couldn’t get enough of you, your warmth, the feel of your soft skin against his own, the sounds of your melodic moans filling his ears, it was all such bliss. And Janna almighty was he a lucky man to be the one who gets to see you like this. His nimble fingers danced curiously beneath the bottom of your shirt, calloused hands caressing your waist. He aided you in removing your shirt, leaving you there before him in your bra and the sight alone made him throb against you, earning a quiet gasp with delight as you looked to him excitedly. Lust filled your gaze, pupils nearly encompassing the entirety of your irises as a smile still rested on your lips, waiting for his next move. His hands found their way behind you, undoing the clasps to your bra and watching as you tossed it aside without a care. “Beautiful” was all he could say as he gazed upon you, leaving you to blush and give a hum in response.

Once you’d finally made it to your bedroom, you aided in the removal of his shirt, undoing the buttons, unraveling all the stylish layers teasingly yet carefully slow while looking up at him. You notified his fingers twitched with anticipation, patiently waiting for you to finish so he could feel your skin against his once more. Once they’d finally been undone, they trailed along your floor towards the foot of your bed, allowing you to gaze upon his slender form. You smiled with all the kindness in the world as you gazed upon him, looking at him as if he were a god standing before you, offering himself to you. It all felt so unreal. Your hands rested on his chest once he’d leaned in closer, begging for the taste of your lips against his once more, helping you to lay on your back as he kissed you much softer this time. Your arms looped around his neck to hold him close, inviting him to continue. He eagerly straddled your frame, one of his hands coming down to caress the curve of your waist before reaching upwards to your chest. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether it was okay for him to touch, so you took the chance to grab his hand, placing it there for him with a playful grin into your shared kiss before looping your arms back around him, hands splayed against his lithe figure. You moaned sweetly in response as he massaged your breast in his hand, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and tangle with your own, deepening the kiss.

Before you knew it his hand was trailing down your frame once again, fingers slipping past your naval and down towards the waistband of your pants. He broke the kiss to work at the button of your pants, leaving you panting for air as a flush set against your cheeks. You giggled as you watched him fumble with the button and zipper for a little bit, the eager shake of his hands making it prove to be a bit more difficult before he was finally able to get it undone. He looked to you for permission as his fingers hooked in the waistband, waiting for you to tell him it was okay. When your hands pushed down against his own to help them inch down your hips, he took that as his answer, pulling them, along with your panties, down and off of your legs before tossing them behind him unceremoniously, making you laugh. “Eager, are we?” You teased with a grin, making him chuckle. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” he replied, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine and stoked the fire burning in your core at the thought that he’s craved you like this. That he’s fantasized about this. “Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, making him shoot you a crooked grin before sinking down and settling between your legs, laying gentle yet hot kisses to your inner thighs. “For you to scream my name for all of Zaun to hear as I please you like no one else can” he responded confidently with a much deeper tone, hands resting on your thighs and keeping them spread as he brought his lips to your throbbing clit.

Your reaction was immediate, back arching slightly from the mattress as your hands flew down to tangle in his hair. “Fuck…” you cursed quietly before moaning as his tongue licked flatly up your slit then fluttered against your aching bud. He moaned into you at your taste, opening his eye to look up at you as he sat between your legs lavishing you with attention, and gods above was he graced with a beautiful sight. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth open as moans billowed from your throat unrestrained, your chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. His every fantasy was ruined in this moment, because nothing, absolutely nothing would ever look better than you do right now. Nothing will ever hold a candle to your beauty as he pleased you. You looked fucking ethereal. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for it, for how perfect you looked, how delicious you tasted, how sexy you sounded moaning his name like a mantra for a lost god. He’d give anything to stay here, like this. All you’d ever have to do is ask.

You felt as one of his nimble fingers prodded at your entrance, easing its way in thanks to the mix between your slick and his saliva before searching for any of your sensitive spots. You gasped as he curled his finger within you, feeling him rubbing against your gummy walls as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it. It left you dizzy, weak even, with just how good it felt. “Gods, yes! Just like that” you encouraged, one hand smoothing through his hair as you looked down at him while he worked you with his mouth, your fingers of your other hand coming up to toy with one of your sensitive nipples, adding to your pleasure. He groaned into you as he took notice of this, enjoying the sight of you playing with yourself as he brought you pleasure, listening to you moan his name like a prayer. None of Zaun would be able to mistake who had you feeling this good once he was through with you. His free hand came up to mirror your ministrations, showing your other breast some much needed attention. You gave a louder moan in surprise as he pinched it playfully between his thumb and index finger before rolling it beneath the pad of his thumb to soothe. The pain sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit, making him grin against you as he worked a second finger inside of you whilst skillfully tweaking your nipple.

You started to feel that all too familiar feeling of tension beginning to fester and rise in your lower belly, so close to snapping any moment now. Your hips rutted against his tongue and fingers, making him moan into your cunt as you used him for your pleasure, trying desperately to gain any bit of friction you could to propel you over the edge, and allow you to tumble into euphoria. “So close, please…” you begged through breathless pants, absolutely desperate to cum. It was when his fingers curled and rubbed against your walls once more that he found that spongy spot within you that lit your every nerve ending on fire. “Right there! Oh gods, Silco please” you let out, making him continue exactly what he was doing, hearing as your voice raised a bit higher in pitch, feeling your walls begin to tighten around his fingers. Before you could even think to warn him, your orgasm was rushing over you, consuming you whole as you screamed his name without a care for any consequence. Your back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back and your legs attempting to shut tightly as you twitched and writhed with every movement of his tongue and fingers that worked to help you down from cloud nine and draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, careful not to overstimulate you. Perhaps that could be saved for another day, should he be lucky enough.

He wiped his lips of your slick with the back of his hand before trailing them back up your body, stopping to suck gently on one of your nipples purely to see you writhe against him with need. He chuckled at your pathetic whine as your fingers came to the waistband of his pants, giving them an impatient tug. “Need me that bad, do you?” He asked with a cheeky grin down at you, the sight of you beneath him like this better than any dream he’s ever had. Seeing your hair settle around you against the sheets, the sight of you naked before him, glowing from the after effects of your orgasm that *he’d* given you. Seeing you wanting him just as much as he’d wanted you. It was unreal. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” you replied cleverly, using his own words against him like he had done to you earlier, making him chuckle once more. Could you be any more perfect? “Then what are you waiting for?” He asked, making you grin deviously as you flipped him over on his back this time, straddling his hips now as your hand pressed against his chest, keeping him pressed against the mattress beneath you. His eyes looked to you with surprise at your quick and dexterous movements before waiting to hear what you had to say in response. “For you to take your pants off so all of Zaun can listen as you please me like no one else ever will” you replied with a confident grin, watching as he did exactly as you asked.

You both moaned pleasantly as he bottomed out, fully seated inside of you now, the angle allowing him to sit deeper within you as you straddled his hips. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, leaning down to kiss him once more to distract yourself from the momentary pain of the stretch. You could feel him throb inside of you with excitement, each pulse of his cock sending a pleasant tingle to your core. It was as he shifted his hips a little to get more comfortable that both of you moaned, the movement accidentally causing him to thrust into you a bit. So you started to move up and down on him at a slow pace to start, testing the waters to see if you were ready. And fuck, were you ready. He was in so deep like this that his tip nestled against your cervix each time you would sink back down onto him. It was heavenly. “Fuck…” you sighed as you started to pick up the pace a little, the sounds of his thighs meeting your ass, your shared panting and the slight creak of the bed becoming louder with your efforts, filling your room with the sinful symphony of sex. His hands slipped down your body to rest at your hips, gripping them tightly as he watched you skillfully bounce up and down on his cock, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing inside of you then peeking back out. “Janna almighty…” he let out, absolutely enraptured with the way your cunt wrapped around him so well, welcoming him so perfectly, he couldn’t help it. You were so warm, so wet, so tight around him that it left him breathless, fighting to not cum so soon. You couldn’t help but to giggle at his remark. “Feel good?” You asked between breathless pants, watching as he looked up at you, bewildered that you could possibly ask such a question. “Better than good, you feel incredible” he replied, a groan leaving him upon a particularly harsh thrust of your hips, watching you get lost in your pleasure as you rode him. You were quite the sight to behold while in the throws of your pleasure, watching your beautiful tits bounce as you moved, your head tilted back and eyes close as you’d find that perfect rhythm that drove you both wild. Every bit of you was so perfect in his eyes, he just simply couldn’t get enough. He watched as you bit your soft, kissable lips, teeth working at them and it made him crave the taste of them again, the feel of them against his own.

He sat up for a moment, bringing himself now eye level with you as you continued to ride him but now at a different angle. One that was even better. You hadn’t even thought that possible. He chased your lips, capturing them with his own as he started to thrust his hips up into you, matching your pace with precision. With each roll of his hips, not only was he hitting deeply inside, but your clit was getting new found attention, leaving you to moan into the kiss as you met his thrusts eagerly. “You’re perfect” he complimented, his lips trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as you felt that ever familiar coil begin to wind tight in your core again. It was as you were about to reach your peak that the words left you before you could even register that you’d said them. “I love you” you confessed, panting as you looked upon him with a blush tinting your cheeks and a hopeful, yet vulnerable look in your eyes that told him your sentiment was completely sincere. That this meant something far more to you than just a heated moment to be forgotten about or never spoken of once morning came. You loved him. He smiled so purely, so joyfully as the words graced his ears. “For so long I’ve dreamt of hearing those words from you” he replied, making you smile back as you finally realized that the feeling was mutual, no longer scared of the potential of rejection. “I love you” he reciprocated, making your heart race as you kissed him, your hands cupping his face as he held you, rutting his hips up into you with newfound fervor. “So close…” you panted once you both broke apart for air, feeling yourself sit dizzily at the edge of bliss as his lips trailed along your neck. “Cum for me, darling. Give it to me” he said, angling his hips perfectly to stroke that spot deep inside of you that had you keening. That was all it took. The tension within your core blossomed to warmth as your every nerve ending surged with fiery pleasure, your walls clenching around him as you moaned his name loudly, clinging to him for dear life whilst your orgasm consumed you. The sight of you twitching and nearly convulsing in ecstasy, mixed with the way your cunt squeezed him even tighter sent him toppling over the edge soon after, spilling himself inside of you with a deep, almost guttural groan. You gave a pleased hum at the sensation, feeling him throb within you and fill you so incredibly full as you both sat there, fighting to catch your breath and looking upon one another in awe. Enjoying the buzzing sensation of your shared afterglow, you leaned in to the press a gentle, loving kiss to his lips, further solidifying that your words genuine and that this moment had indeed meant something. When you pulled back, your hand resting gently on the scarred side of his cheek, you were graced with the most love struck look, making you smile and giggle. “What?” You asked, a cheeky grin stretched to your lips. “Nothing, just taking in the view” he said, making you hum. “Is that so?” You asked. “You’re incredible” he said, turning to kiss your palm as he held his hand against the back of yours, leaning into your soft touch, simply wishing to stay there and enjoy the intimacy of the moment together.

It was as you were both lying there in your bed peacefully, having come back from getting cleaned up, you’d even gone another round whilst in the shower, as an entertaining thought came to you. “You wanna know something funny?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand, leaning your weight on your elbow as you laid on your side, facing him. “What’s that?” He asked, eyes trailing over your frame with wonder, in awe of the fact that you truly were here before him, and that you both shared such an intimate moment together not only once, but twice. Your top half was peaking out from beneath the blanket, allowing him the view of your chest and all the marks he’d left upon your delicate skin as he waited with much anticipation for what you had to say. “If you think about it; it took us dancing with one another to stop dancing around each other. Kinda funny how that worked out, don’t you think?” you spoke with a grin, making you both laugh. “I suppose it is” he replied, making you smile and hum as you looked to him lovingly, happy to see him here with you, happy to have shared what you did with him. “I love you, Sil. Thanks again for tonight” you said sweetly, making him smile as you said it. “I love you too, and thank you” he replied as you cuddled up to him beneath the covers, his arm slung around your frame protectively as you began to drift peacefully to sleep in his arms.

Perhaps heaven wasn’t a moment in time, or an action to be taken, but rather a person, and as you sat there in his arms, he could confidently say that you were that person.

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requiemforthepoets · 6 months ago

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hey, are you still there? ⟢ LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you know yourself that it’s sad that you settled on being a backburner, but you didn’t mind crisping up on lando’s backburner as long as he still think of you.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, unrequited love(?), open ending, insecurities, reader being treated as a backburner, childhood best friends, christmas angst, luisa, typos, and few grammatical errors.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i had always wanted to write this for so long, but i’m not sure how to pen it, but finally, here it is! so far, i’m satisfied. i don’t know much about luisa, but i’m sorry that luisa is kind of villainized in this 🥲 i’m sorry. this is like another christmas one shot, sooo haha i intentionally made it as an open ending bc i want to leave the ending to you, and let me apologize now bc this one shot won’t have a part 2. it just felt right for me to leave it as an open ending and leave the ending up to you. so i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

The glow of the snowy afternoon sun filtered through your apartment windows, casting long, golden shadows across the floor as you sat cross-legged amidst a pile of forgotten keepsakes.

Your plan was simple, really. To declutter, toss out what no longer sparked happiness, and finally reclaim some much-needed space in your small New York apartment. But simplicity soon faded the moment you stumbled upon a memory box that was buried beneath old blankets in the closet. You hadn’t thought about it in years, the worn out wooden edges now slightly faded, but just holding the box again made you feel something deep in your chest.

Sliding the lid of the box open, the faint scent of nostalgia greeted you. There was a mixture of paper and dust that carried you back to another time, another place. Polaroid photographs, ticket stubs, concert tickets, and tiny trinkets spilled out as you began to sift through the box’s contents, fingers brushing against fragments of a life you had once shared with someone who knew you better than anyone. Then you saw it—the camcorder.

It sat nestled at the bottom of the box, its black casing slightly scuffed but still intact, as though it had been waiting for you all these years. The sight of it made your breath catch, fingers hesitant as they wrapped around the familiar shape. A small laugh escaped you, soft and bittersweet, as a wave of memories washed over you.

The camcorder had been a gift from your parents, given to you when you were just a teen. At the time, you had rolled your eyes at the thought of having a camcorder. You were not exactly the type to obsess over gadgets or record everything, but your parents had insisted, saying something along the lines of making memories worth keeping.

You hadn’t even opened the box properly before you had told him about it. Lando had always had a thing for photography, an almost childlike fascination with capturing the world around him. Naturally, he had lit up at the mention of the camcorder. You remembered the way his face had brightened, how he had practically snatched it from your hands when he saw it, excitement radiating from him like it was Christmas morning.

“Trust me,” he said, voice brimming with certainty as he flipped the device open with ease. “This is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.”

And it was.

The camcorder had quickly become his, in everything but name. Lando had used it more than you ever had, his artistic streak shining through in the way he would capture the smallest, most mundane moments and make them feel extraordinary. But what stood out the most was his favorite subject. You.

Every time you hung out, or visited a new place, his focus would inevitably turn to you. At first, you had protested, laughing and batting the camcorder away, but over time, it became a rhythm of sorts. Lando, behind the lens, coaxing your laughter and teasing your smile, and you, rolling your eyes but secretly loving the way he saw you. Through the lens, even the quietest days seemed to feel alive.

You traced a finger along the camcorder’s edges, the faint outline of his fingerprints etched invisibly into its surface. Four years. It had been four years since you had left the UK—four years since you had left him. You told yourself that what you did was for the best, that you needed to grow, chase bigger dreams.

Part of it all was true, but the other part, the one which you didn’t say out loud, was the reason why your chest tightened even now. Was because Lando made you feel too much, and you were not sure you could bear it any longer.

You grabbed your laptop, briefly hesitated over the laptop’s keyboard before finally connecting the camcorder. The familiar chime of recognition echoed through the room as your laptop detected the device, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervous anticipation.

It had been years since you last thought about these videos, let alone watched them. As the files began to load, thumbnails filled the screen—tiny, burry windows into the past. You clicked on the first one, and the second is the screen lit up with a younger version of yourself, smiling awkwardly into the lens. Lando’s voice filled the room almost immediately.

“Come on, you can smile better than that!” he teased from behind the camera, chuckling.

Without even realizing it, a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched. The video playing one after another, each one showed a snapshot of your lives back then. There were clips of you on spontaneous trips—forests, city streets, karting, and endless car rides with Lando singing loudly and off-key while you laughed at him.

There were also quieter moments—rainy afternoon when you were sat by your bedroom window, lost in thought, while he filmed you from across the room, calling it aesthetic. Lando captured everything, from the highs to the lows.

The memories felt vivid, almost too vivid, as if you could reach through the screen and relieve those moments. It was the year he had started his Formula 1 career, and the first time you saw him truly chasing his dreams with everything he had, and were beyond proud of him. At the same time, it was also the year you were filling out endless applications to universities in America, unsure of where you wanted to go or what you wanted to do in life. It was like you were both standing on the edge of something new, something big, and it was both thrilling and terrifying.

It was also the year you finally admitted to yourself that what you felt for Lando was no longer just friendship. You had been so close for so long that the shift felt almost imperceptible at first—lingering glance here, flutter in your chest there. But you acknowledged it, there was no going back.

You found yourself looking at him differently, noticing the little things about him that had always been there but suddenly felt so significant. The way how his eyes crinkled when he laughed, his curly hair, aquamarine eyes, the quiet focus he had when working on something he cared about, and most of all, the way he always seemed to know exactly what to say to make you feel better.

But you kept it to yourself. You couldn’t tell Lando, not when he had told you so casually, like it was nothing that he liked someone.

“I don’t even know if she feels the same,” he had said, voice laced with uncertainty.

For a brief moment, a hope sparked in you. Maybe after all this time, Lando felt the same way about you. Maybe this was the moment that you had finally been waiting for.

But that hope shattered almost immediately when he pulled out his phone and showed you a photo. The girl’s name was Luisa, and she was stunning. She was everything that you were not—model, successful, gorgeous, has a radiant smile and a presence that seemed magnetic. Luisa was exactly Lando’s type, and you knew it.

The realization hit you harder than you had expected. You felt dumb and foolish, for even thinking one second that Lando could ever see you that way. You were not like Luisa, you were not the kind of girl who turned heads or made people stop in their tracks. You were just…you. Lando’s best friend. The person he could have a joke with, confide in, and lean on, but will never see you anything as more.

So you stayed quiet. Buried your feelings deep, gaslighting yourself that everything was better the way it is. The less you talk, the less you risked losing him. Maybe if you kept on pretending that everything was fine, you could learn to let him go.

A new clip began to play. You were seated on the edge of a bench, face scrunched in frustration as you ran a hand through your hair. The sound of Lando’s laughter crackled through the speakers, light and teasing, as he zoomed in on your expression from behind the camera.

“You’re such a drama queen,” he said, voice laced with amusement.

It was clear that from that clip that he was trying to cheer you up. It had been one of those moments when everything felt overwhelming. Your plans, future, and feelings. Yet, even in your frustration, Lando had managed to make you laugh. He always did. Watching it now, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at how young and naïve you looked.

But the video carried more weight than just a frustration afternoon. That day, you had a front-row seat to another chapter in Lando’s pursuit of Luisa. It was the day he told you that he finally confessed his feeling to her, and you could still remember how his voice sounded. It was a mix of hope and vulnerability as he recounted every detail, but his excitement had quickly dimmed when Lando explained how his confession had met an uncertainty from Luisa, not really sure how she felt about Lando.

You remembered how that hurt him, even if he tried to hide it behind his usual bravado. It was one of the few times you had seen Lando genuinely shaken, his confidence chipped away by a single sentence. Still, it did not stop him, if anything, it only made him more determined to win her over.

This is exactly what Lando is—relentless, persistent, unwilling to let go of something he wanted.

Then there was you, caught in the orbit of it all. A pattern had started to form, one you did not want to acknowledge but couldn’t ignore. Whenever Luisa turned her back on him, when his texts went unanswered, or her attention drifted elsewhere, Lando would always find his way to you. His calls would come late at night, voice low and tinged with sadness as he stumbled through excuses to keep you on the line, and you, despite knowing better, would always answer.

Those were the moments you chastised yourself for loving. When Lando was hurt, when he felt small and alone, he always came to you. You were the person he confided in, one he leaned on. It almost felt like you mattered to him in the way you wanted to. Even if you knew, deep down, that it was not that. That it was temporary, a band-aid for his bruised ego—you couldn’t help but savor the attention.

But then, inevitably, Luisa would give him the smallest bit of her time, and you would become invisible to him again. The calls would stop, texts would taper off, and Lando would be lost in the glow of her half-hearted affection. You would feel the ache of being left behind, sting of knowing you were nothing more than a safety net, a placeholder, a convenient fallback plan.

It was a never ending cycle you despised, one that made you look at yourself with pity as you played into it. But whether it was out of hope or some cruel sense of inevitability, you stayed. You let it happen. Time and time again, picking up the pieces when Lando fell apart, only to watch him hand them back to her the moment she glanced his way.

It was always like this. It had always been like this, and somehow, despite everything, you definitely hadn’t learned your lesson.

The video continued to play, the faint static of old footage mixing with Lando’s voice can be heard, his laughter like a distant echo from another life. As you watched yourself on the screen—smiling, frowning, existing in a world where everything felt so much simpler—memories came rushing back, faster and heavier than you had expected. They were not just simple memories of moments, they were reminders of how deeply you felt, how much your life revolved around Lando without you even realizing it.

Your feelings for him had always been the silent undercurrent of your friendship, unspoken but ever-present. You had spent so much time trying to convince yourself that it was just a phase, that you would grow out of it, but you never did.

Instead, those feelings rooted themselves deeper, becoming a part of you. You wondered if the reason you hadn’t moved on was not because you could not, but because you hadn’t really tried at all. Maybe you were afraid, maybe life felt easier when you let it stay messy, undefined—when you clung to the hope that Lando might see you differently someday.

But the reality of it all was far less romantic. You had become his backburner, a place he turned to only when he had nowhere else to go, and the most pathetic part? You didn’t even mind. You let yourself burn quietly on his backburner, knowing full well you would never be the main thing in his life.

No matter how many times you say to yourself that it was okay, that you could handle it, deep down it ate you. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted, there hadn’t been for years. It was always him, it will always be Lando—his laugh, his voice, his stupid smile that made you forget the pain he caused by just being himself. You hated it, and yet you couldn’t even let it go.

Your memory reeled in to that one particular night, a night etched into your memory like a scar. Lando had called you on facetime, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone. His eyes were red, voice trembling with raw emotions as he told you what happened with Luisa.

She had hurt him again, made him feel small in a way that he couldn’t quite put into words. Lando looked so broken, so unlike himself, that it made your heart twist in ways that you did not want to admit.

And yet, you couldn’t help but tease him. You told him how he looked ugly when he cried, masking your own hurt with humor. But inside, there was a flicker of something else—something cruel and selfish. You felt happy that he thought of you in that moment, that you were the person he called when everything else in his life fell apart. It was sick and twisted, and you couldn’t have hated yourself more for it, but it was the truth.

At the same time, you felt conflicted, torn between two versions of yourself. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to tell him how much he had hurt you by treating you like an afterthought. But the other part of you, the part that still believed in him, in the friendship you had shared since you were kids—wanted to comfort him, to be there for him even if it meant breaking yourself in the process.

You always knew how it would go. In a week or so, Lando would be back on his feet, back in Luisa’s orbit, and you would fade into the background again. He would stop calling, texting, and you would be left alone again, waiting for the next time he needed you. You wished you could stop caring, that you could let him go and just move on, but you couldn’t. You cared too much, loved him too deeply, and it was destroying you.

You stayed. You stayed because even though it hurt, even though it made you feel small and invisible, there was still a part of you that believed in him. In the boy who had once held your camcorder, laughing as he filmed you spinning in circles in the park. In the friend who had always been there, even when it felt like the rest of the world wasn’t. You believed in him, even if it meant you couldn’t believe in yourself.

You checked the timestamp on the video and realized it was nearing the end. The final clips began to play, taking you back to a day you remembered so clearly—the beach trip. The screen filled with bright sunlight and sand, camera jerking slightly as Lando filmed you running along the shoreline, wearing one of his bucket hats and sunglasses, your laughter ringing out over the crashing waves.

You watched yourself as if through someone else’s eyes—carefree, alive, darting back and forth like a puppy with boundless energy. Lando’s voice came from behind the camera, teasing you for your antics, and you couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the memory.

It was one of those days you had hoped would change everything. Lando wasn’t thinking about Luisa then. He was with you, laughing, joking, making you feel like maybe you mattered more to him than you let yourself believe. You had clung to that slight flicker of hope every time he drifted back into your orbit, telling yourself that the moments he spent with you would eventually outweigh the hold Luisa had over him. But you know then, deep down, you knew better. You had always known better.

The last clip began to play. The two of you were in one of his cars, the camera shakily capturing the scene as he handed it to you. Lando had insisted you try driving it, grinning with the kind of reckless confidence that was so quintessentially him. You know that he hated someone driving him, especially that it was his car, but he didn’t even hesitated when it came to you.

The video was cut to him standing outside, filming you through the windshield as you tried to maneuver his car into a parking spot, and it was a disaster. He zoomed in on your face, flushed and irritated, as you waved frantically at him to get back inside of his car and help you. Your lips moved as you shouted something at him, your expression twisted in mock anger, but it only made him laugh.

That sound, the sound of his laughter—echoed through the room as you watched yourself scowling at him, completely oblivious to how the moment would look years later.

When the video finally faded to black, you sat there in silence, staring at the black screen of your laptop. A heavy sigh escaped your lips as a sad smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. The memories left a bittersweet feeling in their wake, filling your chest with an ache that never really went away.

You always knew the truth. You would always be in Lando’s corner, even when it felt like he had forgotten you existed. You would stay, waiting in the shadows, knowing full well you were his second choice, or maybe not even a choice at all. Yet, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care, you had settled on being Lando’s backburner long ago, content to exist where he had placed you, because even the smallest scraps of his attention felt like more than you deserved. You knew it would never be enough, but it was all you had.

When you left the UK, you had never properly said goodbye to Lando. You couldn’t face him—not after everything. It had been the hardest thing you had ever done, leaving the place where you grew up and leaving the person that mattered to you the most.

The day you were about to board the plane to America was supposed to be the start of something new for you. But it also turned out to be the same day Lando and Luisa had finally gotten together. It didn’t make sense at first, you had been too wrapped up in your own plans to notice anything strange.

You were so focused on your own future, dreams, and adventure that lay ahead. But the moment you realized what had really happened, the gut-wrenching truth hit you all at once. Despite everything, despite all the years of friendship, despite the deep feelings you had kept buried, Lando had never said a word to you.

The first sign came two weeks before your departure, when you noticed he had not contacted you. Not once. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had spoken, and then, one evening, it hit you. While youwere scrolling through instagram, lost in the sea of photos and videos, you saw it.

Lando and Luisa standing together in a sunlit paradise. They were everywhere—clinging to each other, smiling like they had always been this happy. Their arms wrapped around each other, looking like the couple everyone thought they were meant to be, living out the kind of romance you had always imagined for yourself—only, it was not with you.

It stung more that you could have imagined. It felt like a cruel grip and punch to the stomach—seeing them together, seeing him in a way you never thought you would. There they were, living life, having fun in Dubai, while you had been silently fading into the background, unable to say anything, unable to be anything more than just a shadow.

It suddenly made the decision easier for you. Maybe it was petty, or childish. But at that moment, it felt like it was the only way to protect yourself. You didn’t need to say goodbye, or talk to him again. You didn’t think that talking or saying goodbye to him would even change anything. You didn’t want to face the truth anymore—didn’t want to admit how much it hurts to be forgotten, be pushed aside while he moved on.

So, you did what you had to do. You packed up everything, every piece of your life that had been tangled with Lando’s, and left. You left without a word, without any explanation. The silence between you felt so final, so complete, as if you were never even meant to matter.

When you landed in America, you didn’t waste any second. You changed your number, blocked him on social media, deleted every trace of him from your phone, from your mind, from your life. It was easier that way, right? No more reminders of what you could never have. No more wondering if he still thought about you. It was better to start fresh, even if starting over meant leaving everything you knew behind. You never looked back, at least that’s what you told yourself.

You gently closed your laptop, the soft click of the screen snapping shut, and disconnected the camcorder. You wanted to throw it away, erase it from your life entirely, but something stopped you. Maybe it was the hope that one day, you could look at it without all the pain attached to it, or maybe it was the attachment to something that had once meant so much.

With a deep sigh, you placed it back in the memory box, careful not to let it settle to heavily among the other momentos you had packed away. You knew you wouldn’t be able to part with it—not yet at least. Instead, you pushed the box deeper into your storage room, where it would sit quietly for now, out of sight but never far from your mind.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the box as if it might somehow speak to you, but all it did was remain silent, like everything else in your life that you had tried to put behind you. The soft sound of snow falling outside caught your attention, and you moved toward the window, your gaze drawn to the soft flurry of while blanketing the streets below.

Christmas was approaching in just a week, and for a brief moment, you wished you could go home, back to your family, to the familiar comfort of the holiday season. But the thought quickly passed. Home felt too far now, and you had your own life to navigate, a life in New York that, for all its challenges, had become a place you had grown to love.

You turned away from the window and began to change, pulling on warm clothes fit for the snow outside. It wasn’t much, just a quick errand to stock up on groceries before it got too dark. You didn’t mind the task, it gave you a reason to get out, to take in the city and its wintry charm. The air was fresh and crisp as you made your way out of your apartment, locking the door behind you with a soft click.

The world around you was calm as you stepped out into the quiet of the snowy streets, snowflakes falling gently around you, almost like a veil between you and the hustle of city life. New York felt different in the winter, quieter somehow, even as the holiday decorations began to shine brighter. Streetlights casting long shadows across the snow, and you admired the festive cheer that the city wore like a second skin. You had seen the Christmas tree lighting at the New Haven Green just last week, a tradition that always brought a sense of warmth despite the chill in the air.

Walking through the snow, you felt a small sense of contentment, something you had been searching for but hadn’t fully realized was within reach. The lights, crisp air—all of it made you feel like you had carved out a space of your own here. You hoped that it would stay that way, that the peace you had found wouldn’t be disturbed, even as the holiday season and all its chaos loomed on the horizon.

The grocery store was just a few blocks away, but your thoughts drifted to other things—nothing too heavy, just the soft hum of city life. It had been a peaceful walk, but then, you froze.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of something, or rather someone, someone so familiar in the distance. Curly hair that you could picture in your sleep. At first, you thought it was a trick of the light, a resemblance that your mind conjured up after hours of rewatching old videos. You quickly dismissed the thought, trying to shake it off. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t be here.

But then, as if the universe had conspired to pull the past back into your life. The person looked up, and everything in your world stopped. It was him.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. The air around you seemed to thicken, sounds of the city dimming in the background as you took in the sight of him. Lando. In New York. Of all places he can be in right now, why was he here?

It had taken a long time to convince yourself, year after year, that you were fine, that you had moved on, that everything was better this way. Yet here he was, standing only a few meters away from you, the same familiar figure that had been a part of your life for so long.

You both stood there, frozen in place, just staring at each other as people around passed you by. Neither of you moved, as if the moment held too much weight to let anything else happen. It was like time had bent around you, your mind racing, questions swirling, but none of them found their way to your lips. You couldn’t speak, you weren’t even sure you could breathe.

Lando stood there too, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that everything else feel irrelevant. You knew he hadn’t expected to see you. Not here, not like this. Yet, there he was—right in front of you, a ghost from your past made flesh, making the familiar ache in your chest resurface.

You had thought you were done with him, that you had moved on, but standing here, with him so close and yet so far, you realized that maybe you had not moved on as much as you thought.

The world around you seemed to hold its breath.

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andizoidart · 1 year ago

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Okay but why the Error and Ink kindaaaaa ✨✨✨

OKAY, so, they’re part of my BEI Unrequited Love AU, right? Mainly it’s focused on Blue, where Error and Ink are already a couple.

Error and Ink have a pre-established relationship. They love each other very much and are closed off from Blue because they’re dependent upon each other and trust each other more than anyone else and have trouble letting people in, but also don’t really know Blue well enough to even have passive interest. They are vaguely aware of who Blue is and are friendly enough with him.

Blue on the other hand is a bit of a nervous wreck. He can’t really handle things in the best way and is a little obsessive. He knows it’s not healthy, but it’s not fair that he can’t have what he wants and gets treated like a little kid all the time by everyone around him. It’s not entirely his fault for being reactive, but he’s grown an attachment to these two. Almost parasocial. But he’s trying so hard to be normal about it and “get over” them, but that’s not exactly working when they end up put into the same group…

This AU is very based in being realistic and slice of life-ish.

#andi answers #andi speaks #shut up andi #unrequited love au #error #error sans #ink #ink sans #errorink #blueerrorink #BEI #unrequited Error #unrequited Ink #unrequited Blue #Blue also has a boyfriend but that’s another thing

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dollyzdaydreamz · 4 months ago

Text

Arthur Morgan x Reader fluff

Flowers for a Gunslinger

Description: You always figured love wasn't meant for you, that you weren't the kind of woman a man would bring flowers to. One day, Mickey, the homeless "ex-veteran" in Valentine who has a little crush one you, gifts you with a little flower. Upon seeing your reaction, Arthur decides to one up the poor bastard by gifting you a flower of his own. Warnings: a teensy bit of angst, gunslinger reader (was orphaned), age gap, unrequited love, but not really bc Arthur actually *does* love the reader (✿◡‿◡)

pls forgive any grammatical or spelling errors lol, wrote this at 3 AM

Valentine was as noisy and foul-smelling as ever. The scent of manure and whiskey blended in the streets, and the voices of townsfolk rose and fell like the hum of cicadas in the summer. You and Arthur had been riding in from camp, the two of you sent by Dutch to meet the others at the saloon. It was a routine trip, the kind that felt almost mundane compared to the chaos that life in the gang usually entailed.

Arthur rode beside you, as he often did, his hat pulled over his face to block out the midday sun. He didn’t talk much unless there was something worth saying, but his presence was always comfortable.

You had known Arthur all your life. Dutch and Hosea had raised you, much like they had him, taking you in as an orphan. After hearing about some robbery gone wrong, they decided to investigate the cottage for extra supplies. That’s when they had found you fussing in a cradle, looking like you’d gone days without eating.

You grew up amongst the outlaws, shooting, fighting, moving, and surviving, but you had never been a killer unless absolutely necessary. You preferred shooting a pistol out of a man’s hand and giving him a good verbal beating rather than blowing his brains out altogether, you left that to Arthur and John.

Love had never been something you spent much time thinking about. It wasn’t meant for people like you, people who knew how quickly things could be taken away. And besides, men never seemed all that impressive anyway. After years of being around them, you’d deduced that most were either crude, greedy, or plain dumb.

But as the years passed, you began to notice how everyone seemed to have somebody. Dutch had Molly, John had Abigail, Karen and Sean had their drunken courtship, and even poor Kieran was head over heels for Mary-Beth. And then there was Arthur. Arthur had Mary, well at least he used to.

You’d always liked Mary. She was kind to you when you were a child, always greeting you with a warm smile when she visited camp. She was the sort of woman you could never be, graceful, belonging to the world that had no place for outlaws like you.

And yet, no matter how much you admired her, you're little self couldn’t help the quiet, simmering jealousy that settled deep in your chest every time Arthur brought her around. She had his heart, his attention. The same Arthur who used to draw you rabbits and flowers without complaint. The same Arthur who always had a piece of candy tucked away for you when he knew you were feeling down. The same Arthur you had once childishly and foolishly pictured marrying when you grew up.

But that was a long time ago.

Arthur Morgan wasn’t meant for someone like you. And love wasn’t meant for a gunslinger, so you pushed those feelings down, opting to be grateful to have him as a friend.

As the two of you neared the saloon, a familiar voice called out.

"Miss, Miss, wait a moment!"

Arthur slowed his horse, glancing over as Mickey, the homeless war veteran who often loitered around Valentine, came hurrying up with nervous energy. His ragged coat flapped as he limped toward you.

Your expression, which had been quiet and pensive, softened as you dismounted your horse and walked over to the man.

“If it ain’t Mister Mickey!” you hollered with a small chuckle, tilting your head. “What’s got you in such a rush?”

Mickey looked a little sheepish. "I, uh… I got you something."

“Well then,” you couldn’t help but grin, “show me, I want to see!”

Mickey fumbled with his satchel, his hand shaking slightly as he pulled out a small flower, its pink petals slightly crumpled but still intact. He held it out with a stiff posture, like it was something precious which made your heart melt.

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly. Yes it was just a flower, but the gesture was so sweet. You weren’t used to people giving you things. Not unless it was a gun, a saddle, or some tool for survival. Gifts, real, thoughtful ones, were a rare thing.

"I found it in a field!" he explained with childlike excitement. "Wanted to bring more, but the ranchers, well… they didn't take too kindly to me pokin’ ‘round their property"

You frowned, “they kicked you out over some flowers?”

Mickey shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “Guess they thought I was up to no good.”

You reached out, gingerly taking the flower from his rough hand. Without hesitation, you tucked it into the brim of your hat, adjusting it so it wouldn’t fall out.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you, Mister” you nodded, and you meant it.

Mickey beamed, his shoulders straightening as if he’d just been given a medal of honor,

“Well, do you like it Arthur?” Mickey asked hesitantly, as if asking for his approval as well,

Arthur, standing a few feet back with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes playfully before coming forward to give him a pat on the back,

“It sure is beautiful,” he drawled, before chuckling as Mickey smiled and waddled away aimlessly. He’d always liked that old fool.

As the two of you made your way toward the saloon, Arthur couldn’t help but notice that the previous grimness in your face had faded into something gentler, something more open.

“Well, well,” he mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “didn’t know you had a thing for older men!”

Well, yes, I do. You thought for a split second.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, “Shut up.”

“No, really!” He nudged your arm with his elbow, feigning innocence, “...Should I be expectin’ wedding bells anytime soon?”

“He’s just kind, that’s all. Something I reckon you should try out someday.” You scoffed, though there was no real bite to your words.

“Yeah, yeah” Arthur muttered.

“Today was the first time I was gifted flowers by a man.” You chuckled after a beat of silence, just thinking out loud really, finding the situation a bit funny.

Arthur’s smirk faltered slightly. It was a small thing, just a flicker in his expression, but you caught it.

Sympathy, maybe. He knew you hadn’t had the same experiences as other young women. There was no courtship, no love letters, no dances in fancy dresses. Romance was a foreign concept in a life where survival came first. It made sense that something as small as a flower and a little crush made you feel nice, regardless of who it was from.

But there was also something else in Arthur’s chest, something unexpected. A small, irrational twinge of jealousy. He scolded himself internally, now you’ve reached a new level of pathetic you old fool, jealous of the town nutcase. But it was there all the same.

He scoffed, masking whatever he was feeling with humor. “Then what am I? Chopped liver?”

“Well, when’s the last time you risked getting shot to pick me a flower, Arthur?” You chuckled, as you walked up the ragged steps of the saloon, already hearing the faint piano and sounds of men drunkenly conversing.

Arthur tutted, shaking his head. “Hell, I guess you’re right.”

“Mhm” you hummed pointedly, before your eyes met Dutch, Charles, and Javier waiting for you two at the bar.

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

A few days later, Arthur’s found himself crouched in the tall grass as he muttered under his breath,

“This is…ridiculous.”

He’d spotted a flower tucked against the base of a tree, a shade of pink that stood out against the greenery.

“A lot of effort you're putting into your little gift,” Hosea called out from behind him.

“Shut up,” Arthur groaned.

He wasn’t doin’ this for any particular reason, of course. Just happened to see it after him and Hosea had finished robbing some poor bastard, and-

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he grumbled as he finally shooed off the last grazing deer and plucked the damn thing out of it's mouth, shaking it off.

“You are a terrible liar, son.”

Arthur shot him a look, “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Pink,” Hosea observed as he stepped forward, examining the flower with a grin, “she’ll like that.”

Arthur grumbled something under his breath before mounting his horse, doing his best to ignore the warmth creeping up his neck.

He hated that Hosea could see right through him. Arthur knew he wasn’t the best at saying what he felt, so doing things was the easiest way to show it. Plus it made him feel…good about himself. It reminded him of this one ordeal many years ago. Arthur tutted at the memory, he was probably around 18? 19?

Arthur had been reluctant about drawing for you. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the second he did, you’d start asking for more. And seeing you frown? Well, he hated to admit it, but that damn near killed him.

One evening, you had tugged on his sleeve after camp had settled down.

“Arthur,” you asked, bright-eyed, “Can you draw me an elk? Hosea said he saw one the other day!”

He was exhausted. Dutch had been on him about somethin’, and he was already in a sour mood, just wanting to reach his cot and forget about the day as soon as possible. So, for the first time, he snapped,

“Just-draw it yourself.”

You faltered. Just for a second. But it was enough to make his gut twist.

Hosea, who had been watching nearby, frowned at him before following you as you scurried off.

Later that night, Arthur spotted you in Hosea’s tent, crouched over a piece of paper, brows furrowed in concentration. You were trying so hard, but eventually, you threw the pencil down, frustrated, before curling up and hiding your face under the covers.

“You moron Morgan,” Arthur groaned as he rubbed his face, before bringing his journal out from his satchel and getting to work.

The next morning, you woke up to a neatly folded piece of paper by your head.

“Well, what do we have here?” you heard Hosea’s warm voice ask as he leaned down, unfolding it for you even though he already knew.

It was the most intricate and beautiful drawing of an elk you had ever seen.

You had gasped, grinned so wide your face hurt as you and Hosea pointed out little details in the sketch. Arthur didn’t say anything about it, but he saw that smile again. That was enough.

Sure enough, a few days later, you had forgotten about the whole thing.

A faint smile adorned Arthurs face as he reminisced, before quickly clearing his throat and spurring his horse onward after he saw Hosea eyeing him.

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

You had just returned to camp, seeing Mary-beth’s face buried in a book before it lifted and met yous,

“Evening” she greeted you with a suspiciously playful glint in her eye.

“Hi Mary-beth” you chuckled hesitantly, “what’s with that look?”

“Nothin’” she shrugged looking back down at her book as the corners of her lips twitched up, “just couldn’t help but notice the gift Mister Morgan left ya”

“Gift?”

“Go and see for yourself,” she said.

You scoffed a little at her sudden mysterious demeanor, before you spotted something sitting on the small table near your tent. A small, glass-encased flower. Not just any flower, a soft pink, delicate and rare.

You furrowed your brows, stepping closer. There was a small note beside it.

"Didn’t get shot at, but I did have to fight off a feisty deer."

-Arthur

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as warmth bloomed in your chest.

“Oh, how romantic,” a voice from behind you drawled, “a blossoming love between two gunslingers” Mary-beth sighed, book clutched to her chest with a dreamy look in her eyes.

You rolled your eyes, “You gotta stop readin’ all those god-awful romance novels” you muttered, although you had to turn away to hide the heat radiating from your cheeks.

“Alright, fine I’m just teasin’ ya…”

You scoffed, as she looked back at you pointedly while walking back to her tent, before your lifted the glass carefully, admiring the flower inside.

It was beautiful, untouched by the roughness of the world. You ran a finger over the edge of the case,

Arthur Morgan.

That fool.

You took the flower and carefully placed it on your table, somewhere safe.

Arthur leaned against a tree near camp, watching from afar as you carefully positioned the flower on your desk, adjusting it just right before admiring it.

He felt something stir in his chest at that rare smile.

He should’ve just let the moment pass. Should’ve walked off, but he let himself savor this moment for just a moment longer.

dividers by @fairytopea and @kodaswrld

images found on Pinterest but collaged by me:)

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 headcanons #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 community #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 imagines #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2

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chereid · 1 month ago

Text

೯⁺ 𖥻 𝓟 𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗬 𝟰 𝗨 ! ᰋ

ꨄ︎ 𝒫airing : : 𝒮pencer reid x reader

ꨄ︎ 𝓢ynopsis : : you’re like a cherry. small, tempting, easy to eat, but with a pit at the center. very sweet on the surface, but you might leave a bitter aftertaste if someone isn’t careful. & maybe, despite spencer reid & his eidetic memory, he forgot that. there were no strawberries left▰so he reached for the cherries.

ꨄ︎ 𝒞ontents : : angst. spoilers( maeve ). her = maeve unrequited love. one sided-love( ? ) emotional neglect. grief/mourning. unhealthy coping mechanisms. friends to almost lovers to situationship to strangers. rebound relationship. rebound!reader. unresolved trauma. self worth issues. implied depression. implied sex. abandonment themes. no comfort. reader leaving( not the fbi ). no happy ending( ...unless? ). doesn't give off the angsty vibe( in my defense, i'm more of a fluff girlie ).grammatical errors. ooc. song lyrics mentioned. quotes from pinterest mentioned. reader be legit a people pleaser. spencer is kind of a dick. lowercase. use of "&". not proofread( none of my works are ). english isn't viana's first language.

ꨄ︎ 𝓦ord count : : 2k+

ꨄ︎ 𝓒ase file shelf.

ꨄ︎ 𝒲hispers of viana : : sorry for describing reader as a cherry in the synopsis 😭 please blame pinterest,,,. it wasn't supposed to be this long but i got carried away. i also have no idea if it gives off party 4 u,,, because it kind of gives off mirrorball,, IDKDID. oh & can u guys tell that i tried to be poetic but quit. yeah, i'm no shakespeare. &&& i wasn't planning on posting this because it seemed,,, bland,,, but @yeoniverseee wouldn't stop spamming me, so wow. party 4 u is finally out of prison. USGHSH so bare w me indygis one💔 this is my first ever angst ( & i suck at writing angst ). also, the you always let him in & he always visits part is so michaelia coded lawd. ( guess who finished rereading the naturals in just one day ) @dntaed read the naturals already plsplsplspls🤞🏼🤞🏼/j

𝓨ou tell yourself it's okay.

you tell yourself every time his hands linger on your skin, every time the gentle sweep of your waist doesn't hold him fast, every time the silence following your laughter draws out too long & he backs away with a muttered apology about papers or a case or some distant pain he neglected to share. you smile through it all.

because he's at least making an effort, right? you are, too. you always are. always going the extra step, always showing up on his doorstep when you feel like he most needs you, always acting like you don't notice how his eyes are seeing right through you. acting like the hands that hold you in the dark aren't clutching cold with guilt.

he doesn't kiss you in the mornings. that's how you know it's not real. he never does. even after long nights tangled together, bodies pressed close as if closeness could buy out for the sections of him you can't touch. he always sneaks away when the sun comes up. & you let him.

it began perhaps three or four months following her passing. you can't utter her name. he won't, either. not with you.

you swallow her ghost every time you say nothing. you keep her between your ribs, where your hope used to be.

he was mourning, & you were seeking to aid. individuals like you▰those who speak perhaps too blunt sometimes, who dig their nerves deep beneath control & calculation & bullheaded kindness▰you do not necessarily comprehend how to display love. yet you tried.

you sat with him at first, quiet. made coffee. touched his wrist gently when he winced. & slowly, things began to change.

he kissed you once when he was exhausted. you reassured yourself it meant something.

you told yourself his breath in your mouth was a promise. it didn't.

& now it's this. whatever this is. the team doesn't question. but they're aware. you can see in the looks. the soft gazes from jj. the raised eyebrow from emily. the way derek half grins at you, always like he's holding back some thought he knows better than to express. & penelope… she doesn't exactly hide her pity.

& pity tastes worse than anything.

you were trained to read people. not like how spencer reads people. not genius level profiling & eidetic memory. no, you picked it up in the quiet spaces. in silences that warned you who could be trusted, in eyes that did not meet yours. you learned to know when someone was going to depart.

he has not departed. but he's never stayed.

sometimes he calls you in the middle of the night. you don't even ask anymore. you just come. & he lets you curl around him like warmth might burn the sorrow out. he never says her name. he never has to. you can feel it in the way he touches you with fingers like ghosts.

months ago, you overheard him.

you weren't supposed to. you didn't mean to, light steps from habit. the door was left slightly ajar. he was discussing something with alex.

“it doesn't matter what she looks like. she's already the most beautiful girl in the world to me," he stated.

his tone was quiet, filled with something you couldn't define.

he has no idea of what this person looks like, & is already the most beautiful in his mind, you▰someone who he has worked with for years▰could never top that.

you didn't cry then. you just closed the door. waited an hour before walking in & pretending you hadn't heard.

& now, tonight▰tonight he doesn't come home. not until late. you wait anyway, because that's what you do. wait & hope & pretend. when he finally walks in, looking like exhaustion & something rawer, you open your mouth & asked, "are you okay?"

& he stares at you like that's the incorrect question.

"i'm fine."

you despise that word. more than anything. it's the word that you both use when the truth is too painful. for spencer reid, “i'm fine” is a call for help.

"you forgot we had dinner."

he doesn't even flinch. "i didn't forget."

& there's the truth. he didn't forget. he just didn't show.

"i waited," you say quietly. "if you were arriving late, you could've at least told me.”

he touches his hair. "i know. i'm sorry. the day just got▰"

"don't lie to me."

that makes him flinch. his lips shut, eyes narrowing. but there is no anger there. only that weary, endless pain you've learned too well.

"i didn't mean to lie."

"but you did."

he breathes out, slow. "i'm not ready. you know that."

you swallow past the lump in your throat. "& what am i? a distraction? a placeholder?"

his silence is too long. it's everything.

you laugh. "i thought maybe… maybe one day, if i stayed, if i loved you hard enough, you'd see me." you whisper like it’s a secret you’ve said a thousand times before.

his face changes. pain. guilt. "i do see you."

"not like that."

he takes another step forward. you take a step back.

"don't," you tell him. "don't touch me unless you mean it."

he stands still. you can see it. the panic, the guilt, the uncertainty. all of it knotted in the air between you.

"i didn't mean to hurt you."

"but you did."

he doesn't deny it.

you wipe your face, realizing too late that you're crying. "i know she meant everything to you. i know you're still grieving. but i thought maybe i could help you heal. not. not be the wound you keep cutting open."

his hands twitch. like he wants to reach for you. but he doesn't.

"i'm sorry," he says. & it's silent. genuine. "i thought i was fine. but every time i see you, i feel like i'm stealing something i don't deserve."

"you think i don't know that?"

he's taken aback.

"you think i don't know i'm just a rebound? you think i don't notice the way you wince every time i tell you i love you?"

he shuts his eyes.

"i wish you didn't," he whispers.

you laugh once more. bitter. "so do i."

there's silence. the kind that chokes. the kind that stabs you. the kind that bleeds & you didn't even realize it until he's drifting away once again.

you press your fingers into your wrist just to feel something steady.

you don't tell him to go. he does anyway.

& when the door shuts, you let yourself collapse onto the couch. fingers curled tight in the pillow. trying to recall how to breathe.

because you'll take it. every piece. every touch. every half truth.

until you can't anymore.

but god▰you love him so much it destroys you.

you had fallen off your pedestal many times, broken so many times you think there's no repair for your soul; but no one needed to know that. your cries, the guilt you feel whenever a case comes up, how ashamed you feel because every mistake you make is equal to a person's life.

you have fallen countless times, you played a very risky gamble that left you a permanent wound.

you, a special fbi agent from the bau, will die your mother's daughter.

it doesn’t stop after that night.

you wonder maybe it should've. maybe that would've been simpler. but instead, everything settles into this odd performance, a dance neither of you planned but both of you remember now. & it's uglier than ever. you don't kiss him when he arrives at your doorstep. he doesn't hold you afterwards. you speak less. touch less. feel less▰or perhaps you simply pretend to.

but still you let him in.

& he still visits.

you lie to yourself & say it's alright. that it doesn't mean anything. that this is no longer love, that it perhaps never was, not at all. it's just a craving, a comfort, the warm buzz of flesh & breath & quiet you've become dependent upon. you don't meet his gaze when it's finished. sometimes you don't even say goodbye. simply throw on a blanket & turn toward the wall until he gets up & leaves in silence.

& he always does.

he never sleeps over anymore. not that he ever really did.

& somewhere along the way, you give up trying.

you don't brew his coffee the way he likes it. you don't ask about the topics he's very much educated at. you don't hold his hand when he shakes. you don't send him books you think he'd enjoy or those stupid little riddles you used to text him at 2 a.m. you stop arriving first thing after a tough case. you stop asking if he's alright, because the answer will always be the same.

you still love him. he's your best friend ever since you joined the team, & that's the worst part. you still love him like it's your last breath. but love doesn't mean what it used to.

it's just a quiet ache in your chest now. a thing you carry like a scar.

a scar you dress up in perfume & pretend is perfume.

one evening, he approaches you & you're already half-naked, eyes far away, movements automatic. you don't even glance at him. just drag him down next to you like it doesn't matter. like you don't matter. & then he lightly touches your shoulder, as if to speak, but you roll over before he can.

you don't look at his face. but you sense the tension. the hesitation.

he doesn't return for a week afterwards.

& that's when you received an offer

ncavc▰national center for the analysis of violent crimecriminal investigative analysis program. a split personality job. one foot in the field, the other in behavioral data & strategy. it's ideal for you. something that's like both an escape & a test. the unit is smaller, younger, located out of quantico's satellite offices. not the bau. not him.

you don’t tell him at first. you tell hotch, of course. & emily. you tell penelope over coffee, & she gasps & hugs you & almost cries, & you smile through the lump in your throat. derek claps you on the back & calls you “big shot,” & even rossi gets a little sentimental. jj was emotional, to say, at least. telling you that you better visit her every now & then.

but you avoided spencer.

perhaps you're a coward. perhaps you don't want to witness his expression when he knows this is it.

because it is. you know. this is the time where the almost turns into never. the maybe turns into no. the what if turns into goodbye.

you inform him three days prior to the transfer.

you wait until late, when you know he'll be in his desk. the team's dispersed for the evening, penelope already gone with emily & jj, & derek's somewhere plundering the vending machine. your footsteps sound too loud as you get closer to the bullpen, heart pounding harder than it should.

he doesn't even look up when you knock softly. just hummed softly as greeting & continues reading whatever file is in his hands.

you linger a second too long before uttering it.

"i'm leaving."

that cuts through.

he blinks, looking up. "what?"

you let out a breath. "i was offered a role at the ncavc. it's settled. i will switch over next week."

the quiet lands like a punch. the kind that rebounds.

he lowers the file into his hand with deliberation. "you're not joking?"

you nod. "no, i'm not."

he glares at you, eyes darting across your face as if perhaps he's looking for the part of you that's lying. but you're not. not this time.

"why?"

you shrug. "because i want to. because it's a good chance. because i'm good at this, & because it's a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

you don't say because it kills me to be around you. you don't say because i no longer want to wait. you don't say because when i look at you, i recall how desperately i wished for you to choose me & you never did.

you simply fold your arms. "it's not personal."

it is. you both know that.

he nods, clenching his jaw. "congratulations, then."

that is all he says.

you wait another second, expecting▰something. anything. but nothing happens. so you turn & go away.

just like that.

the team gave you a party two days later.

penelope organized it, of course. there are balloons & streamers & a gold banner that reads "GO SAVE THE WORLD, SUPERSTAR" in glittering letters. someone brought cupcakes. derek delivers a speech that's half jokes, half actual feeling. emily hugs you for longer than is necessary. jj hugged you just as tight. tighter, even. rossi says to you that he's proud of you, that your instincts are better than most people's & he knew that from the beginning. hotch smiles. you swear it's almost warm.

& you, you try to have a good time. really. you do.

you laugh at the jokes. you pose for photos with everyone. you take a sip of punch from a paper cup & smile like your heart isn't racing in your ears.

spencer hangs back the rest of the time.

you catch him staring at you once, chatting with derek about something, laughing at one of his idiotic jokes. you don't glance away. you don't approach him, either.

you haven't said a word since the announcement.

you wonder if maybe that's best.

but later, when you're standing by the food table, refolding napkins just to have something to do, jj approaches beside him.

they speak softly for a few moments. you can't hear what they're saying, but you notice the tension in spencer's shoulders, the way he keeps looking your way like he wants to bolt.

jj's voice is steady, but soft. serious. her hand brushes against his elbow, & he jerks away like it hurts.

you look away before you see any more.

"you could've gave a chance to let her in, spence."

his jaw clenches. "it wasn't that easy."

"it was. you made it harder."

he remains silent.

jj lets out a sigh. "she waited for you. for years. & when she finally gave up, you let her. that's what stings the most, i think."

he gulps hard.

"were you in love with her at some point?"

"i was. maybe. before▰" he was then cut off by the blonde.

"then why didn't you tell her?"

he shakes his head. "i don't know. i▰ she was always focused on her job, maybe i felt like she didn't want any distractions. maybe because she deserves better.”

jj doesn't respond for a second. then she says softly, "maybe you should've let her decide that."

& then she leaves.

( spencer will recall every word jj said for the remainder of his life. )

the party slows down gradually.

bit by bit, the team began leaving. lights get a bit hazier. penelope gives you a big hug that is scented like strawberry perfume & frosting. derek pecks your head & makes you promise to stay in contact or he will track you down. emily gifted you a snoopy mug for your new workspace. rossi tucks a note in your bag reading remember, best profiles are ones that come from the heart & not just the head.

& then there's just you & spencer.

kind of.

he stands by the windows, arms folded, looking out like the night would provide answers.

you stand by the door, coat clutched in your hand, uncertain. he looks your way, & for a moment, there's just you two. all the yelling & years & hurt between you.

he gives a single nod.

you nod back.

this is the most you've spoken in days that's just,, okay.

& it's everything.

you turn & go out the door.

you don’t look back.

he does.

he always will.

219 notes · View notes

luumiinaa · 1 year ago

Text

♡ reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡. i remember loving the mini series! [3/3]

ERROR 500

SUMMARY. You’d be considered lucky to have computer science genius Jeong Jaehyun as your TA, but not for academic reasons.

GENRE. college!au | fluff

pairing. comp sci TA!jaehyun x fem!reader

word count. 2.7k+ words

ERROR 404 | ERROR 400 | ERROR 500

“Because I like you, Y/N. I thought I made myself pretty clear about my intentions.”

Keep reading

#★.ᐟ mars #☾.ᐟ moon #fic: short #nct #nct 127 #jaehyun #college au #strangers to lovers #academia #unrequited love #series: error ta universe.ᐟ‧₊˚💻

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godricgryffinsnore · 2 months ago

Note

HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!

so I just stumbled on your page and realised that I really like your writing style, kudos to you and I have a request!!!

ahem ahem

so this has been on my mind for a while and idk maybe I just have a thing for time travel fics

so can we do james x femreader where during yk the typical time travel fic, she gets hit and sent bsck to like marauders era!

also background info she’s like bffs with golden trio and stuff

and she’s a slytherin!!! (idk u can use ur creativity to figure out how they become friends or something)

but it’s sorta like forbidden love cuz she becomes friends with narcissa and Bella AND ALSO is bffs with his son, so they can’t exactly be together

ps nobody knows that she’s been sent back in time

YOU CAN FECIDE THE RESTTTT

is it unrequited? does James still like Lily? what happens to HARry?!!!

Splintered In Time ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : James Potter x female!slytherin!reader

summary : When a spell gone wrong sends you hurtling back to the Marauders era, you find yourself entangled in a life you were never meant to live. Torn between the friendships you left behind and the forbidden love you were never meant to have, you must face the impossible choice: to hold on to a borrowed future or fight for the one slipping through your fingers. But time is never kind to those who dare to rewrite it. And love—love is the most reckless magic of all.

warnings : Emotional whiplash, time travelling, poetic language, heavy yearning, Marauders banter, but with a hopeful conclusion, angst with happy ending, slight ‘Snily’ in the ending. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

word count : 10k {Longest fiction I have ever written}

main master list <3

della's note : Babe! This request made me question and challenge my creativity. Thanks A TON for requesting!!! It felt wonderful to write about time travelling. Oh and btw, originally this was supposed to be a sad ending fiction. But I just can't do this to our James <333 I hope you like it!!!! Oh and it's a super long fiction. Like, I got really carried away while writing!!! I AM SO EXCITED. This is a really long fic, so sit back, grab your popcorn and ENJOYYYYY <33333

banners : @uzmacchiato and @roseschoices

There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.

You didn’t see it coming.

The curse, emerald and vicious, came hissing through the battlefield. You only heard Hermione’s choked scream, Harry’s ragged breath, Ron’s hoarse shout—everything distorted by the thunder of chaos. The three of them were only feet away, desperate and bloodied, backs pressed against stone as the fight splintered around them.

You reached for Harry, fingers outstretched, but the magic hit you square in the chest.

And you were falling— Through time itself.

── .✦

When you opened your eyes, the Forbidden Forest was far younger. The trees were taller, the air less burdened with ghosts. You tasted autumn in your throat. Time had slipped backward, cruel and nameless, and dropped you into a decade where your existence was an error.

But you were alive.

Alone.

You spent the first week haunting the forest’s edge like a ghost, walking its shadowed paths with trembling hands. You whispered Harry’s name into the wind, over and over, as if he might somehow hear you across time. You expected Ron to stumble through the underbrush, muddy and panting, calling you an idiot for getting yourself cursed. You waited for Hermione’s clever hands to grab your wrist and yank you back into the war.

But they never came.

Instead, you stood before the castle doors—haunted and hollow—and walked back into the school you had already left behind.

── .✦

You were sorted into Slytherin. The Hat perched on your head seemed to hum with ancient curiosity, peeling back your layers and tasting the war on your tongue.

“Oh,” it murmured, almost gently. “You’ve already fought your battles, haven’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Please, just make it quick.

It considered you carefully. Measured the iron and fire in your bones, the loyalty stitched so violently into your chest.

But it placed you in Slytherin, and you didn’t argue. You were already too tired to protest.

── .✦

It started with James. It was always James.

He had a terrible habit of appearing out of nowhere. You’d be walking down the hall, perfectly content to avoid unnecessary attention, when suddenly, his arm would be slung over your shoulders as if it belonged there.

“You’ve got to stop looking so suspicious, snake,” he drawled one day, grinning lazily. “People might start thinking you’re up to something.”

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “I am up to something.”

James’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Yeah?” he smirked, leaning closer, voice low with mock suspicion. “Planning to kidnap me? Hex me into oblivion? Steal my heart?”

You deadpanned. “I was thinking more along the lines of poisoning your pumpkin juice, but sure.”

He laughed far too loudly for the middle of the corridor, earning glares from passing professors.

“Oh, she’s funny,” he announced loudly to no one in particular, hands over his heart. “Merlin, I think I’m in love.”

You shoved him off, fighting the way your stomach fluttered, but he caught your wrist before you could escape. His grip was firm but gentle, and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, his eyes were far too soft.

“Let me walk you to class,” he murmured, the grin slipping into something warmer.

You should have told him no. But you didn’t.

── .✦

You found yourself tangled with the Marauders far too quickly.

They were impossible to avoid—loud and ungovernable, a storm of mischief and chaos that you had no hope of resisting. You were stolen into their orbit before you could fight it, dragged into their endless schemes and reckless antics.

One morning, you were sitting by the lake, boots kicked off, enjoying the rare sliver of peace. You had foolishly thought you were alone.

Then a shadow fell over you.

“Hello there, Slytherin,” Sirius Black��s voice drawled lazily from above you.

You didn’t bother looking up. “Go away, Black.”

Sirius plopped himself down beside you, entirely ignoring your protest. He stretched out his legs with a contented sigh, as if he belonged there.

Moments later, James appeared, dropping down beside you with a casual grin.

“Morning, love,” he greeted cheerfully, far too pleased with himself.

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you sound so smug?”

James’s grin widened. “Oh, no reason. I may have just turned McGonagall’s teacup into a toad. But, you know, totally hypothetical.”

You stared at him. “You’re going to die one day, you know that, right?”

“Probably,” James agreed easily, slinging an arm around your shoulders with infuriating charm. “But at least I’ll die with you scolding me. Very romantic.”

Before you could shove him into the lake, Remus strolled over with an exasperated sigh. He paused, taking in the sight of James practically draped over you, and arched a brow.

“Are you bothering her again?” Remus asked, voice dry as parchment.

James beamed. “She likes it.”

You snorted. “I loathe it.”

Sirius, clearly feeling left out, threw himself dramatically into your lap, draping one arm across his forehead with an exaggerated sigh.

“Why,” he drawled dramatically, “why does she only have eyes for James?”

You shoved him half-heartedly, but he only cackled and threw his arms around your waist.

“Get off me, Black!” you spluttered.

James, narrowing his eyes with faux jealousy, nudged Sirius none too gently with his knee. “Oi, off. She’s mine.”

Sirius gasped, clutching his chest. “Yours? Possessive much, Prongs? I knew you were a selfish bastard, but this—this is heartbreaking.”

James rolled his eyes, giving you an exaggerated look of betrayal. “Are you cheating on me with my best mate?”

You snorted. “If I were, you’d deserve it.”

Peter arrived late to the scene, holding a half-eaten pastry, and squinted at the chaos. “Wait—are you two dating?” he asked, blinking between you and James.

“Of course we are,” James said with mock indignation, eyes glinting wickedly. “Didn’t you get the wedding invitation, Wormtail?”

Sirius, still sprawled across your legs, clutched at your hand. “It’s true! She’s only marrying him for his money, you know. I tried to warn him.”

You shoved Sirius off you with a laugh, but James caught your wrist before you could scramble away. His grip was warm, his fingers curling around yours, far gentler than they should have been. When you glanced at him, his eyes were bright with mischief—but there was something softer beneath it. Something you weren’t quite ready to name.

And you hated that you didn’t pull away. Hated how much you liked the way he held on.

── .✦

You should have left. You should have walked away.

But when James kissed you for the first time beneath the clock tower, you let yourself fall.

── .✦

There are no stars tonight—only the burn of borrowed time.

James kissed you in every corner of Hogwarts.

He kissed you by the Black Lake, where the reeds bent with the wind and the water lapped at your boots. He kissed you in the hidden passageways behind the tapestry of Gregory the Smarmy, his fingers fisted in your robes, dragging you against him as if he could anchor you there forever.

And you let him. You let him because he didn’t know the truth.

He didn’t know that when you kissed him, you were tasting borrowed time. That when you clutched at his robes, you were holding on to something already slipping through your fingers.

Because you knew. You knew that one day he would look at you and see nothing but betrayal.

And when the truth finally came—it broke you.

── .✦

It was never meant to slip out.

You had spent months dodging questions, weaving careful half-truths and white lies. James had been curious, of course. He was a Gryffindor, after all—reckless and brash, always needing to know why.

But he trusted you. And it made it too easy to lie.

Until one night, when it all came unraveled.

── .✦

It happened in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire had burned low, its light casting long, honeyed shadows across the rug where the Marauders sat sprawled in their usual disarray. Sirius was lounging with his head in Remus’s lap, tossing Bertie Bott’s beans at Peter, who swatted at him with a scowl. James sat on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out, fingers idly playing with the fraying hem of your sleeve.

You had barely noticed. You were too lost in the sound of their laughter, the way their voices filled the room—so young, so unbroken. For a moment, you let yourself forget. You let yourself imagine that this was your world. That you belonged here.

And then Sirius, ever reckless with his sharp-edged tongue, grinned at you through half-lidded eyes.

“So, how’d a Slytherin like you get mixed up with the likes of us?” he teased, lazily twirling his wand between his fingers. “You never did say, y’know.”

You smiled faintly, already preparing a half-hearted lie. “Fate, I suppose.”

But Sirius was grinning now, mischievous and sharp. “Come on,” he pressed. “I want a proper story. Surely you’ve got some deep, dark secret.”

Your breath caught slightly.

James must have felt the way you tensed beneath his touch. His fingers stilled against your sleeve, and he glanced at you, concern flaring subtly in his eyes.

But you forced a laugh, too light, too strained. “I hate to disappoint, Black,” you said, voice tight, “but I’m painfully boring.”

“Liar,” Sirius grinned, poking you in the ribs with his wand.

And then— Without meaning to— Without thinking—

You said his name.

You said it softly, a slip of the tongue, a betrayal on your lips.

“Harry.”

The room fell silent.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the low crackle of the dying fire.

And then James stilled.

The playful glint in his eyes vanished, his fingers curling slightly in the fabric of your sleeve. You felt the tension flood his limbs—the subtle stiffening of his spine, the sudden sharpness in his breath.

He turned slowly to look at you.

“Who?” His voice was low, almost gentle.

Too gentle. Like the eye of a storm.

Your throat tightened. You opened your mouth, scrambling for a lie, but the name hung between you—raw and damning.

Sirius frowned. “Who’s Harry?”

And James— James was already staring at you, the light in his eyes splintering into something sharp, something disbelieving.

You tried to move, but his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that was far too desperate.

“Wait,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Wait.”

The others were watching now, their laughter gone, eyes narrowed in confusion. But James—James wasn’t looking at them. He was only looking at you.

“Say it again,” he breathed. His voice cracked. “Who did you just say?”

You opened your mouth. Nothing came.

James’s grip tightened slightly, his knuckles white around your wrist. His voice, usually so steady, shook.

“Please.”

You felt yourself tremble. Because you couldn’t lie anymore. Not to him. Not when he was holding you like that— As if you were already slipping through his fingers.

And so you whispered it. Soft. Barely louder than a breath.

“Harry.”

The color drained from James’s face.

He dropped your wrist like it burned him, his hand falling limply to his side. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came—only a sharp breath, hitched and uneven.

“Harry,” he echoed, voice hollow.

You saw it then— The moment the pieces fit together. The realization in his eyes. The slow, devastating comprehension.

And then he was on his feet.

“James—” you started, reaching for him.

But he stumbled backward, out of reach. His chest was heaving slightly, his hands shaking at his sides.

“Don’t,” he croaked.

Sirius and Remus were on their feet now, eyes wide and confused.

“James, what the bloody hell is going on?” Sirius demanded.

But James only shook his head. He took another step back, looking at you as if he had never seen you before.

And then he turned and left.

── .✦

You found him in the Astronomy Tower.

The night was cold, the stars scattered wide and indifferent. He was leaning against the stone railing, knuckles white where his hands gripped the edge, his back to you.

“James,” you breathed softly.

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t look at you.

“Who is he?” His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a whisper.

You stared at him. The boy you loved. The boy you were going to lose.

You swallowed hard. “He’s your son.”

James stiffened. His knuckles went even whiter against the stone. For a long moment, he didn’t move.

And then he exhaled, sharp and broken.

“My son,” he repeated slowly, voice cracking. “From the future.”

You stepped toward him, cautiously, as if you might scare him off.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out,” you rasped. “I—I didn’t know how to tell you. I—”

But James spun around sharply, and his eyes—oh, his eyes.

They were wide and wild, brimming with too much emotion for one person to hold.

“You lied to me,” he choked.

You shook your head violently. “No, I didn’t—James, I didn’t lie—”

“You knew!” His voice cracked, sharp with anguish. “You knew this whole time. And you let me—” His voice broke, and he dragged a shaking hand through his hair. “You let me love you anyway.”

Your throat tightened, your heart splintering in your chest.

“James,” you whispered.

But he only stared at you, eyes glimmering with disbelief, with heartbreak.

“You’re not mine,” he rasped, voice raw. “You never were.”

You choked on a sob, closing the distance between you. Your hands cupped his face, trembling fingers brushing against his cheeks.

But when you leaned in—when you pressed your mouth against his, desperate and pleading— He didn’t kiss you back.

He only stood there, motionless, as your lips pressed against his. And when you pulled away, he was already slipping through your fingers.

But you didn’t let go. And somehow, impossibly, he didn’t either.

── .✦

There are no stars tonight—only the slow ruin of hearts breaking in real time.

You stood in the Astronomy Tower long after James had gone.

The stone railing was still warm from where his hands had been, but the boy himself—the boy with honey eyes and a wicked grin—was gone. You pressed trembling fingers against the cold stone, the ache splintering in your chest so violently you thought it might hollow you out.

And you stayed there. Even after the stars grew weary. Even after the wind bit cruelly at your skin.

Because the only thing worse than knowing James Potter might never love you again— Was knowing that he once did.

── .✦

You tried everything to make it right.

But he was gone.

He was still there, of course—still James, still a boy with fire in his chest and golden laughter in his throat. But he was no longer your James.

He stopped sitting beside you at breakfast. He stopped brushing against your arm when you walked beside him.

He didn’t meet your eyes when you passed him in the corridor. Didn’t glance at you when Sirius slung an arm around your shoulders in the common room.

It was worse than hatred. Because there was no fire in his eyes. Only distance.

And you were drowning in it.

── .✦

The Marauders noticed. Of course they did.

You were walking beside Remus one morning, heading toward Transfiguration, when he slowed his pace, falling into step beside you. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, too perceptive by half.

“You look tired,” he murmured softly.

You offered him a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not fine,” he countered gently, his voice low. “And he’s not fine either.”

You didn’t say anything. You only gripped your books tighter.

And Remus—Remus, who had always known how to read you—lowered his voice slightly.

“He still looks at you, you know,” he murmured, so softly it was nearly lost to the crowd.

Your throat tightened.

You didn’t ask who he meant. You didn’t have to.

── .✦

You tried. Merlin, you tried.

You cornered James in the hallway once, days later.

You didn’t think. You just grabbed his wrist as he walked by, gripping him too tightly, too desperate. His breath hitched slightly at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t meet your eyes either.

“James,” you rasped, your voice barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

You didn’t even know what you were begging for. But it didn’t matter.

Because James closed his eyes, as if you hurt him just by standing there, and carefully pried your hand from his wrist.

And he walked away without saying a word.

── .✦

You started avoiding him after that.

If he didn’t want you, you wouldn’t force him to see you. You let him have his space. You sat at the Slytherin table for meals again, pretending you didn’t feel his eyes burning into your back.

You stopped walking by the Quidditch pitch in the evenings, unwilling to watch him practice, unwilling to risk seeing him so golden and alive when you were breaking apart.

You no longer reached for him when you were cold. You no longer leaned against him in the common room. You no longer laughed when he tugged at your hair or stole the last of your pumpkin pasty.

And you told yourself it was for the best.

But oh— It hurt.

── .✦

You were going to give up.

You had almost made your peace with it. Almost.

Until that night.

── .✦

It was raining. The sort of rain that slapped against the windows in sheets, a relentless downpour that filled the corridors with a low, mournful hum.

You had been walking back from the library, exhausted and hollow-eyed, your boots heavy against the stone floor. Your hair was damp from the drizzle that had clung to you on your way back from the Owlery.

You didn’t even see him at first.

James was standing by the window at the end of the corridor, his back turned to you. His hands were braced against the sill, shoulders hunched slightly, damp curls clinging to the nape of his neck.

You should have walked away. You should have kept going.

But you didn’t.

You stood there, watching him in the half-light, letting yourself pretend for one final moment that he still belonged to you.

And then you turned. Ready to leave. Ready to walk away.

But then he spoke.

“Don’t.”

His voice was low, hoarse—so quiet you barely heard it over the rain.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

And slowly, slowly, James turned around.

You saw his face, and your heart splintered. Because he was staring at you the way he once did. Like he was falling. Like he was still falling.

And then he was moving. Two steps, then three— And suddenly he was right in front of you, too close, his chest heaving slightly.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. You only stared at each other— Breathless. Broken.

And then he cupped your face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if memorizing the shape of you.

“I hate you,” he rasped.

Your throat tightened.

“I know,” you whispered brokenly.

But James shook his head sharply, his grip tightening slightly. His voice cracked, raw and uneven.

“No, you don’t,” he choked. “I hate you for making me fall in love with you, knowing you’d leave.” His breath hitched. “I hate you for letting me hold you when you already belonged to a different time.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp sob splintering in your throat. “James—”

But his hands tightened on your face, trembling slightly, pulling you closer.

“And I hate,” he whispered brokenly, forehead pressed against yours, “that I never stopped loving you.”

You let out a soft, broken sob— And then you were kissing him.

Hard. Furious. Desperate.

Your hands fisted in his robes, dragging him closer, anchoring yourself to him. And James—James was everywhere. His hands slipped into your hair, fingers tangling desperately, as if he could keep you there forever.

When you pulled away, both of you were gasping. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath uneven, his eyes burning.

“You idiot,” you whispered softly, trembling against him. “You absolute idiot. I was never going to leave you.”

James let out a low, choked sound, half-sob, half-laugh, and then he was kissing you again.

And this time— When he held you, He didn’t let go.

── .✦

You stayed. Time bent for you.

The war came. You fought beside him. You saved them all—James, Lily, Harry. The future was rewritten, the grief undone.

And when you stood with James beneath the canopy of a thousand stars, his hands holding yours, you pressed your lips to his knuckles and whispered,

“I would have loved you in every timeline, you know.”

And he smiled. Because he already knew.

── .✦

Time is not linear. It bends for love. It always does.

── .✦

You never thought you’d get to see it—the future you were fighting for.

But somehow, impossibly, you did. And it was beautiful.

── .✦

The war ended differently this time.

Voldemort fell. Not in the ruins of Godric’s Hollow or the halls of Hogwarts, but in a forest clearing, far from the children who should never have had to bleed for a future that should have been theirs.

You were there beside James. You fought with him—back to back, his voice hoarse with spells and shouted warnings, his hand reaching for yours even in the chaos.

And when it was over—when the last curse had been cast and the world stood still—James found you in the crowd.

His hands were shaking when he grabbed you. His knuckles bloodied, his robes torn, his hair damp with sweat. But his eyes were bright and wild and alive.

And he kissed you like you were oxygen. Like he had spent a lifetime holding his breath. Like he had been waiting for you across a thousand timelines.

── .✦

You stood beside him when the world was rebuilt.

You were there when Sirius was declared innocent, when he was free to walk into the sun with his head held high, grinning like a boy unburdened by ghosts.

You were there when Remus spoke softly in the quiet hours of the morning, voice trembling with hope, confessing that he had always wanted more than to simply survive.

You were there when Harry was born—alive and safe. When James held his son in his arms and cried without shame, his tears falling into the wild tufts of black hair on the baby’s head.

And you were there when James placed a trembling kiss against your temple, Harry cradled between you, and whispered,

“We did it.”

── .✦

Two years later, you were standing beside James at Lily and Severus’s wedding.

You had almost laughed when the invitation arrived. The ornate script, written in Lily’s elegant hand, had carried far too much smugness for a simple piece of parchment. The words had been formal and lovely, but you could still hear her voice in them—sweet and knowing, the subtext far too clear.

Told you so.

And now, standing in the evening glow of the wedding canopy, you watched as the girl with fire-bright hair clasped her hands with the boy who had once nearly lost her forever.

Severus stood at the altar, tall and lean, still a little stoic, still a little brooding—but there was softness in his eyes. A gentleness in the way he held Lily’s hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles with quiet reverence.

And Lily—oh, she was radiant. Her hair was loose and wild, tumbling down her back in copper curls, adorned with tiny white flowers that twined through the strands. Her smile was bright enough to soften even Snape’s sharp edges, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as she gazed at him with unguarded adoration.

You glanced at James, who was watching them with a boyish grin, his arms folded lazily across his chest. His hair was windswept and unruly as always, the golden sunset catching the edges and turning them molten.

“They’re going to be insufferable about this, you know,” James murmured with a grin, leaning slightly into your side.

You hummed softly, tilting your head toward him. “Oh, absolutely. Lily will probably gloat about being right for the next decade.”

James smirked, dark eyes glinting with mischief. “Ten galleons says Snivellus cries during the vows.”

You shot him a deadpan look. “James, you can’t bet on their wedding.”

But he only grinned wider. “What, afraid you’ll lose?”

You rolled your eyes but fought a smile, elbowing him lightly in the ribs.

And when Lily walked down the aisle—when Severus turned toward her with something painfully soft in his eyes—James slipped his hand into yours.

His fingers wove between yours, warm and steady. His thumb brushed slow circles against your palm, as if he were trying to memorize the shape of your hand.

And when you glanced at him— He was already looking at you.

His eyes were dark and golden and entirely too soft, shining with something far too raw for a wedding.

And you knew. Right then. That he was thinking about every version of you he had ever lost. Every version of you he had loved.

And so you leaned over slightly, your voice barely louder than a breath.

“Stop looking at me like that, Potter,” you murmured teasingly.

James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes didn’t soften. They only burned brighter.

“Like what?” he whispered, his voice barely louder than the breeze, laced with unmistakable reverence.

“Like you’re in love with me,” you teased softly, arching a playful brow.

And James—James smiled softly, eyes molten with warmth, voice rough with emotion.

“I am in love with you,” he whispered simply.

And then he was leaning down, brushing his lips against yours—slow and gentle, as if the whole world had slowed just for you.

── .✦

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars spilled carelessly across the sky, you stood in the garden with James, Harry fast asleep in his arms.

The evening was warm, the wind gentle, carrying the faint sound of music from the reception. The canopy was still aglow with golden lights, casting everything in soft, honeyed hues.

You watched as James shifted Harry carefully in his arms, his hand splayed protectively across his son’s back. The baby snuffled softly against his chest, tiny hands curled into fists, his breathing slow and steady.

You reached out, brushing a soft lock of hair from Harry’s forehead, and James glanced at you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You only stood there, bathed in the amber glow of the evening, watching the stars blink sleepily overhead.

And then James, voice barely louder than a whisper, murmured,

“Marry me.”

You froze.

Your eyes flicked to him, searching his face—certain you had misheard. But James was only looking at you softly, his eyes wide and unguarded, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hand.

You stared at him, your heart stuttering violently.

“James,” you breathed softly, barely able to say his name.

But he only smiled. Soft and slow and so achingly sincere.

“Marry me,” he whispered again. His voice was hoarse, barely louder than a breath. “I—I know it’s sudden. I know we’ve already stolen so much time. But—” He exhaled sharply, his voice breaking slightly. “I want this. With you. Always.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening, your eyes burning with tears you couldn’t hold back.

And when you reached for him—when your hand pressed against his cheek and you nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat—James let out a shaky, disbelieving breath.

And he kissed you.

Soft and trembling and impossibly tender, tasting of hope and home and every version of you he had ever loved.

And you kissed him back— Knowing that this time, In this life, You were his forever.

── .✦

Love is timeless. It does not belong to one lifetime. It exists across all of them.

── .✦

You were trembling.

Not with fear, not exactly. But with something bigger. Something heavier.

The morning sun spilled through the enormous windows of the bridal suite, bathing everything in soft, golden hues. You stood barefoot on the cool stone floor, wrapped in a silk dressing gown, staring at your reflection in the floor-length mirror.

Your fingers were cold. Your knees felt a little weak.

You were getting married. To James Potter.

And somehow, the thought made it harder to breathe.

Not because you were afraid. But because the weight of happiness pressed so fiercely against your chest, you thought it might shatter you.

── .✦

“Are you trying to hyperventilate, or does that just come naturally?”

You glanced over your shoulder to find Bellatrix standing in the doorway, one dark brow arched, her lips curled into a smirk.

She was stunning, as always, dressed in elegant silver robes that caught the morning light, the fabric shimmering faintly as she stepped into the room. Her black curls tumbled in perfect, wicked waves down her back, and her eyes glimmered with mischief.

But when she saw the trembling in your hands, the playful glint softened slightly.

“Hey,” she murmured, striding over, her voice low and surprisingly gentle. She took your hands in hers, squeezing them slightly. “You’re all right.”

You let out a shaky breath, laughing weakly. “I feel like I might pass out.”

Bellatrix’s lips twitched faintly. “I mean, if you want to cause a scene at your own wedding, be my guest. Would be pretty dramatic. Very on brand.”

You let out a watery laugh, squeezing her hands.

And then you felt a soft hand on your shoulder.

Narcissa appeared beside you, her pale blonde hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. She was elegant and ethereal, dressed in ice-blue robes that brought out the sharp cut of her eyes. But her voice, as always, was soft.

“You look beautiful,” she murmured, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

You swallowed thickly, your throat tightening.

And then there was Lily.

She stepped into the room, her auburn hair glimmering with tiny pearls woven into the braid that circled her crown. Her smile was impossibly bright, her eyes warm with too much emotion.

She held up a handkerchief dramatically. “Don’t even think about crying yet,” she teased, her voice trembling slightly despite her playful tone. “Save it for the aisle, or I swear, I’ll hex you.”

You let out a strangled laugh, already blinking back tears.

And when the three of them crowded around you—Bellatrix playfully poking at your hair, Narcissa fastening the delicate bracelet around your wrist, and Lily brushing a bit of gloss onto your lips—you felt the trembling in your hands finally still.

── .✦

The music began to play.

You stood at the edge of the garden, your hands trembling slightly around the bouquet of white lilies and wildflowers. The sun was warm against your face, the sky a soft, cloudless blue, the air perfumed with the scent of roses and honeysuckle.

And then— Harry, your precious little ring bearer, toddled out onto the stone pathway.

He was dressed in a tiny, perfectly tailored black suit, with his wild black hair sticking up in every possible direction. He held the little velvet pillow in his small hands, his bright green eyes wide with delight as the crowd let out a collective coo.

When he spotted you standing in the archway, his face split into a gap-toothed grin, and he squealed,

“Mummy!”

You let out a watery laugh, your chest tightening painfully.

But when you finally took that first step— When you slowly made your way down the aisle, surrounded by the people you loved— Your eyes found only one person.

James.

And oh, he was already crying.

You saw him before he saw you. Standing there at the end of the aisle, dressed in tailored black dress robes, the collar slightly askew, his hair hopelessly messy in that perfectly disheveled way. His hands were trembling faintly at his sides, his lips parted slightly as he stared at you.

And when his eyes finally met yours— His breath caught audibly in his throat.

You saw the moment it hit him. The moment he realized that this was real. That he wasn’t dreaming. That you were walking toward him— To be his. Forever.

And then he let out a sharp, uneven breath, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He dragged a hand roughly through his hair, laughing wetly through the emotion clogging his throat.

Sirius, standing beside him, smirked and clapped him roughly on the back, grinning smugly. “Told you you’d cry, mate.”

James sniffled, his voice breaking slightly. “Shut up, Pads.”

And then his eyes were back on you.

And he was beaming. Like he was seeing the sun for the first time. Like he was falling in love with you all over again.

You barely remembered walking the rest of the way. All you could see was him.

And when you finally reached him—when he took your trembling hands in his—you felt your whole chest constrict.

Because he was crying so softly, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles as if he were trying to memorize the shape of you. His hands were warm and trembling, his voice rough with emotion.

“You’re so beautiful,” he choked, voice barely louder than a breath. His eyes burned fiercely, glassy and golden. “You’re—you’re so beautiful, love.”

You let out a watery laugh, squeezing his hands.

And then the vows came.

James was shaking slightly when he slipped the ring onto your finger. His voice cracked halfway through the words, and he let out a shaky, breathless laugh, blinking rapidly.

His hands were warm, his eyes glassy and reverent as he whispered the words against your knuckles.

“I choose you,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll always choose you. In every time, in every life. It’s you.”

And when you pressed your trembling lips to his—when you felt his hands tighten desperately at your waist, holding you as though you might slip away—you knew.

That you had never belonged to just one lifetime. You had belonged to all of them. To him. Always.

── .✦

Later, when the sun was low and the garden was alight with golden lanterns, you stood with James in the orchard.

The reception carried on behind you—the clinking of glasses and soft laughter drifting through the night—but James didn’t seem to care.

He had abandoned his tie long ago, and his hair was a mess of unruly curls, golden in the lantern glow. His arms were wrapped around you, holding you too tightly, as if he was still afraid you might disappear.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered playfully against your ear, his voice low and honeyed, pressing soft kisses against your neck.

You smiled against his shoulder. “I was always yours.”

James pulled back slightly, eyes dark and molten. His voice softened, barely louder than a breath.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered hoarsely.

And when you kissed him beneath the canopy of golden lights, with the stars spilling wide and endless above you, James Potter held you like he had loved you across a thousand timelines.

Because he had. And he always would.

── .✦

Time had bent for you. It had splintered and unraveled and stitched itself back together just to bring you here— Into his arms. Where you were always meant to be.

── .✦

The stars were burning softly above the orchard, spilling across the inky blackness in glimmering constellations, as if the entire universe had come to witness the ending of your story.

Or rather, the beginning of it.

Because you weren’t running anymore. You weren’t slipping between timelines or losing yourself to fate. You were here—rooted firmly in this life, this time, with James Potter’s hands tangled in yours.

And Merlin, he was still looking at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

── .✦

The reception was still alive behind you—laughter and music floating lazily through the orchard. Golden lanterns swung gently from the low branches, casting honeyed light over the dark grass.

But James didn’t seem to notice any of it.

You were his whole world.

His tie was long discarded, and his robes hung loosely around him, a few buttons undone at his collar. His hair—already unruly from the hours of dancing—was an utter mess, windswept and falling into his eyes in hopeless curls.

He was absolutely breathtaking.

And he was holding you too tightly, like he still wasn’t entirely convinced you were real.

“Merlin, I can’t stop looking at you,” he murmured, his voice rough with something deeper than reverence. His thumb brushed slowly over the back of your hand. “You’re so—bloody hell, look at you.”

You let out a breathless laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re making me sound like some divine vision, Potter,” you teased softly.

James’s lips curved slightly, but his eyes softened with something almost dangerous—something entirely too raw and reverent.

“Because you are,” he murmured, his voice so low it made your skin flush.

Your breath caught slightly at the weight of his words. At the warmth in his eyes. At the softness in his touch.

And then—because you were helpless against him—you reached up, brushing your fingers softly through his windswept hair. You let the tips of your fingers trail down the side of his face, tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.

James’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His breath stuttered slightly, the warmth of it fanning against your wrist.

And when he opened them again— His eyes were dark. Molten. Utterly ruined by you.

── .✦

You didn’t know how long you stood there, swaying slightly in the golden lamplight. You didn’t know how many times James pressed his lips to your knuckles, as if trying to memorize the feel of you in his hands.

But you knew that you weren’t in a hurry.

You let him pull you close, let him bury his face against your neck, breathing you in like you were air. His arms were loose around your waist, his thumbs slipping beneath the fabric of your dress, brushing slow, idle circles against the small of your back.

And when you shifted slightly in his arms, leaning into him— James let out a low, breathless sound that made your skin flush beneath the fabric of your dress.

── .✦

“Dance with me,” he murmured against your ear, his breath warm against your throat.

You let out a breathless laugh. “James, there’s no music out here.”

But he only pulled back slightly, his eyes glimmering with boyish mischief. “Since when do I need music to dance with my wife?”

The word wife sent a shiver down your spine, settling warm and heavy in your chest. And he must have seen it in your eyes. Because James’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, his nose brushing lightly against yours. “You like being my wife.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, rolling your eyes. “I suppose it has its perks,” you teased lightly.

James’s grin widened, his voice a low, playful rasp. “Oh, does it?”

And then he was spinning you in the dim light of the orchard, twirling you beneath the canopy of golden lanterns, his hands warm and steady in yours.

You laughed breathlessly as he tugged you close, arms winding securely around you. You pressed your face against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat settle against your cheek.

And James— James pressed his lips against your temple, his voice a low, lazy drawl.

“You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured playfully against your hair, his hands sliding slowly, reverently over your back. “No take-backs. You married me. It’s legally binding and everything.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. And Merlin, he was still looking at you with so much love it made your knees weak.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage,” you teased lightly, brushing your fingertips over the back of his neck.

James’s eyes glimmered with warmth, but his voice softened, barely louder than a breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, as if saying it too loudly would shatter you. His thumb traced along your cheekbone, eyes dark with awe. “You’re—you’re so bloody beautiful, love.”

You leaned into his touch, your lips parting softly.

And then he was kissing you.

Softly at first. Slow and reverent, his lips barely brushing over yours— As if he were still tasting the promise of forever on your mouth.

But then— Then the kiss deepened.

James’s hands slid lower, gripping your waist tightly, pulling you flush against him. You let out a soft, surprised gasp, and James swallowed the sound with a low, breathless hum, his lips dragging over yours with slow, teasing purpose.

His fingers splayed over the small of your back, slipping just beneath the fabric of your dress, his touch impossibly warm. He pressed you closer, as if he could make you a part of him— As if he were still afraid you might slip through his fingers.

“Merlin, I love you,” he rasped against your lips, his voice low and uneven, hoarse with longing. His teeth grazed your bottom lip slightly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

And oh— You were trembling slightly in his arms. Not with nervousness. But with want.

And James— James, who had always been golden and mischievous and utterly smitten— Noticed immediately.

His eyes darkened slightly. His lips parted faintly, breath uneven.

“Love,” he murmured lowly, his voice rough around the edges, “if you keep looking at me like that, I might do something utterly indecent at our wedding reception.”

You let out a breathless laugh, cheeks flushing faintly. “Oh? That’s unlike you, Potter,” you teased, your voice barely louder than a murmur.

And James— Oh, he grinned wickedly, lowering his mouth to your ear.

“You have no idea, Mrs. Potter.”

His voice was a low rasp, his lips grazing the shell of your ear with slow, torturous reverence. His breath was warm against your skin, and his fingers—Merlin, his fingers were dangerously slow as they traced teasing circles along your spine.

Your breath caught slightly, your heart hammering violently in your chest. And James—James only grinned wider.

“Shall we sneak away, love?” he murmured silkily, brushing a teasing kiss against your throat, lips warm and deliberate. “Or do I have to suffer through another hour of dancing with respectable people before I get you all to myself?”

You laughed softly, breathless, your cheeks warm and flushed.

And when you leaned up on your toes, brushing your lips teasingly against his, you whispered,

“Take me home, Mr. Potter.”

And James— James smiled against your lips, utterly ruined by you. Because you already were. You always had been. His home.

── .✦

The universe had been cruel. It had torn you from your timeline, stripped you from the arms of the people you loved, and scattered you across history. But in return— It gave you this. Him. Them. A future you had never dared to dream of.

── .✦

The cottage was small, but it was yours.

Tucked away in the countryside, hidden behind sprawling fields of wildflowers and enchanted thickets, it stood like something out of a dream. The stone walls were weathered but sturdy, honey-gold in the morning sun. The windows were always open, letting in the scent of lavender and fresh-cut grass, and the chimney was forever puffing lazy ribbons of smoke into the sky.

It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t a manor. But it was warm and worn and safe. And it was home.

── .✦

You awoke slowly to the feel of warm, slightly chapped lips pressing soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

You let out a drowsy sigh, rolling over slightly to meet James’s half-lidded gaze. His hair was an absolute mess—dark and rumpled and deliciously wild against the pillows. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, golden in the morning light, and he was looking at you like you were the first sunrise he had ever seen.

“Morning, Mrs. Potter,” he murmured hoarsely, voice thick with sleep, his lips brushing lightly over the tip of your nose.

You smiled faintly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Morning, Mr. Potter.”

James let out a soft, contented hum, burying his face into the curve of your neck. His arms tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you closer, as if the entire bed were too big without you in his arms.

“Mmm, don’t move,” he grumbled drowsily, his voice muffled against your skin. “You’re warm. Stay right here. Forever.”

You let out a sleepy laugh, running your fingers lazily through the thick curls at the nape of his neck.

But then— A loud crash echoed from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

You and James froze.

Then— The distinct sound of tiny, gleeful giggles.

James groaned dramatically, his face still buried against your throat. “Your son is a menace,” he mumbled, voice muffled with mock exhaustion.

You smiled, brushing your lips lightly against the crown of his head. “Our son,” you corrected softly, but there was nothing but adoration in your voice.

James let out a low, exaggerated groan, flopping onto his back. “Merlin help me.”

And then the bedroom door burst open.

“Da!! Mummy!!”

Harry, still in his little blue pajamas, came sprinting into the room, clutching a suspiciously bent toy broom in one hand. His wild black hair was an absolute disaster—sticking up in every possible direction, an adorable replica of his father’s morning mess. His green eyes were wide with childish delight, a bright, mischievous grin tugging at his tiny lips.

He launched himself onto the bed with absolutely no regard for either of you.

James let out a low oof as Harry pounced onto his chest, sprawling over him with all the elegance of a baby thestral.

“Merlin’s beard, Prongs Junior!” James groaned dramatically, mock-gasping for air. “You’re going to break my ribs, you absolute menace.”

But Harry only grinned wider, clearly unimpressed with his father’s suffering, and bounced gleefully on James’s chest.

James made a loud, strangled, dying-man sort of sound, throwing his head back with mock agony. “Darling!! Help me! Our son is trying to murder me!”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “Oh no,” you deadpanned flatly. “How tragic.”

James shot you an utterly betrayed look, gaping at you like you had personally destroyed his soul.

“You betrayed me, wife?” he gasped, clutching his chest dramatically.

Harry squealed with delight at his father’s theatrics, utterly oblivious to James’s Oscar-worthy performance of a man meeting his untimely end.

You simply shook your head with mock solemnity, rolling your eyes. “Potter, you’re being outwitted by a four-year-old.”

James stared at you, lips twitching with mock indignation, then turned his attention back to the tiny boy currently using him as a human trampoline.

“Oi, you,” he gasped weakly at Harry, voice hoarse with false agony. “Don’t you want to save your dear old dad? Be my hero? My knight in shining armor?”

Harry only giggled maniacally, gripping his bent broomstick and declaring with great importance, “I’m gonna be a seeker!”

James let out a soft, incredulous laugh, eyes bright with warmth.

“Merlin, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he muttered, ruffling his son’s hair fondly. But he was grinning like a fool, eyes glimmering with a ridiculous amount of pride.

You watched them quietly for a moment. James. Harry. Your entire world pressed into the same bed, giggling beneath the golden morning light.

And just for a moment— You allowed yourself to pretend you had always belonged here.

── .✦

The fireplace roared suddenly with green flames, and in strolled Sirius Black, entirely uninvited.

“Prongs!” Sirius barked cheerfully, arms flung wide as if announcing his arrival to a crowd of thousands. “I come bearing whiskey, terrible advice, and absolutely no concept of personal boundaries!”

James’s grin widened immediately. “Now there’s my responsible fatherhood role model.”

You groaned softly, covering your face with one hand. “Oh no.”

But it was already too late.

Sirius strolled into the living room like he owned the place, his black hair tousled in artful disarray, a cocky grin tugging at his lips. He bent down dramatically, ruffling Harry’s hair with enough force to make the boy squeal with delighted laughter.

“Look at you, little menace!” Sirius crowed, plucking Harry off the ground with exaggerated flair, tossing him lightly in the air. “Merlin, you’re almost as big as your old man.”

Harry squealed gleefully, grabbing at Sirius’s hair with tiny fists.

James’s eyes widened slightly. “Oi, gently, Padfoot!” he barked, though he was grinning far too widely to be genuinely concerned.

But before James could intervene, Remus strolled in through the front door, already exuding the aura of the only sane person in the room.

He shook his head fondly, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why I still expect you lot to act like responsible adults.”

Sirius snorted loudly, tossing Harry lightly onto the couch with a dramatic flourish.

“Responsible adults?” he sneered with mock outrage, planting a hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, Moony, I once drank half a bottle of Fire whiskey, dueled a goblin, and convinced a centaur to let me ride him through the Forbidden Forest—all in the same night.”

Remus arched a brow, utterly unimpressed. “You also got a month’s detention and lost two teeth, if I recall correctly.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s slander, Lupin. Absolute slander.”

You let out a soft, breathless laugh, watching them fondly. And for a moment— Just for a moment— You forgot that they had once been nothing but memories. Phantom faces in a future you could no longer reach. For now, they were here. They were real. And Merlin, you held on to them like they might slip through your fingers.

── .✦

The cottage was silent that evening—Harry long since tucked into bed, his tiny hands clutching the worn stag plush James had gifted him.

You stood by the window, staring out at the endless black, your breath fogging the glass.

And when you closed your eyes, you could see them.

Ron, throwing his head back in laughter, eyes glinting with boyish mischief. Hermione’s soft, steady voice as she carefully unwound the impossible knots of the world with quiet brilliance. And Harry—your Harry— Older. Burdened. Carrying too much weight for one boy.

You pressed your palm lightly to the windowpane, as if you could reach through the glass and touch the life you left behind.

But it was James who found you. Always.

You didn’t hear him enter the room. But you felt his arms slip around you from behind, warm and familiar. Without a word, he pressed his lips softly to your shoulder.

“Can’t sleep, darling?” he murmured softly, voice low and sleep-rough.

You swallowed thickly, leaning back into him, your fingers tangling loosely with his.

“Just thinking,” you whispered faintly.

James was quiet for a moment. And then— He squeezed you a little tighter.

“About them?” he asked softly, no accusation in his voice. Only understanding.

You nodded, your breath hitching slightly. And James— He pressed his lips against the curve of your jaw, his voice barely louder than a breath.

“You don’t have to forget them, my love,” he murmured, softly, reverently. “You just have to keep living.”

And you let him hold you. Because somehow, James knew how to make the grief feel a little softer. A little quieter. Like something you could carry, rather than be crushed beneath.

── .✦

The evening was soft and golden, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth. James was slouched in the armchair, legs dangling lazily over the side, a book balanced haphazardly on his chest. His hair was a complete mess, dark curls tumbling over his forehead.

You sat on the couch with your legs tucked beneath you, an old quilt draped over your lap, fingers absentmindedly running over the worn fabric.

The room was quiet, save for the occasional flutter of parchment as James absentmindedly flipped a page.

Then— Without warning, James’s voice broke the silence.

“Do you ever regret it?” he asked softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

You blinked, looking over at him, your breath catching slightly at the softness in his eyes.

“Regret what?” you asked faintly, though you already knew.

James’s eyes didn’t leave yours. “Staying,” he murmured, voice quiet and earnest. “Choosing me. Choosing this life.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the rawness in his voice—the quiet, vulnerable plea behind his words.

You were silent for a long moment. And then— You rose slowly from the couch, padding across the room and climbing into his lap.

James’s arms wound around you immediately, pulling you closer, holding you like he was still afraid you might slip away.

You pressed your lips softly to his temple, voice low and trembling with certainty.

“Never,” you whispered fiercely. “Not for a second.”

James let out a breathless sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

And he held you. And you held him back. And the life you left behind—the one you would always carry with you—felt a little lighter, a little softer.

Because here, in this time, In this life, You were home.

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strawbeerossi · 1 year ago

Text

August - Prologue

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Chapter Description: You look back on the way that you bonded with Spencer over the course of the time you've known him. After one night spent between you both, you tell the girls that you want to ask Spencer to Rossi's wedding. Too bad JJ had other plans.

Content/Warnings: Spoilers for 14x15, unrequited love, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, JJ is a horrible friend (I’m so sorry), general heartbreak.

WC: 2.4K

Navigation || August Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Request

🏷️ @sadroses98

Spencer’s love life was a trainwreck. Everyone knew that after the Maeve debacle, dating wasn’t something that he was concerned with. He saw the horrible things that could happen to significant others of the BAU members. Haley dying, Jack being targeted, and Savannah being shot were things he’d seen first hand and he wasn’t eager to have a loved one go through any of it. He’d never forgive himself.

JJ was always special, in his eyes. Even whenever they were both young on the field together, he always pined after her. She was beautiful, funny, and she didn’t always look so bothered to talk to him. Of course, their failed attempt at a date to the Redskins game was just an indication that he should admire from afar. Besides, he’d like to have her in his life regardless.

He maintained a healthy friendship with JJ over all fourteen years that he worked with the BAU, the woman being by his side even whenever he didn’t deserve it. It was something he wouldn’t trade for the world. He appreciated her, loving her so much that his heart swelled every time she came near him. He buried all those feelings deep in his heart, keeping quiet on the subject. It wasn’t the healthiest way to handle unspoken feelings but it was the easiest. Work would be awkward, plus she didn’t seem romantically interested. Best not to push.

Whenever you joined the BAU, you were blissfully unaware of Spencer’s feelings toward JJ, instead meeting a version of him that was so dedicated to bottling up those feelings. He was a bit standoffish with you at first, which you didn’t take personally. You’d heard of the endless trauma he’d been through and you felt like you had to work overtime to gain his trust.The problem was, you did damn near everything and it was like it wasn’t working.

You learned how he liked his coffee and brought him a cup every morning, you asked for facts about zany topics, you even mentioned Doctor Who in an effort to reach out to him. It was like he didn’t even want to look in your direction.

You managed to chip away at him over the next few months, getting him to laugh in certain circumstances or even having him greet you in the mornings. It was something that you had to work for but it was all worth it in the end whenever he’d gotten fully comfortable with you. He learned that he enjoyed talking to you, having you around.

The both of you had grown quite close to the point where every Friday that you weren’t on a case was spent having a movie night. He’d even taught you how to sew a scarf after too much trial and error. All the time you spent together was causing you to fall deeper in love with the lovable genius with each interaction. Every silly complaint about a show not being true to science, his rambles on topics that interested him, even when you two would get into arguments.

It was no surprise that you’d fallen so fast. You wore your heart on your sleeve, yearning for a deep connection that nobody else could take away. Spencer was your person, you could feel it. There were daydreams of having a nice home with a big backyard for your kids, Spencer teaching them magic tricks or helping them excel in their academics.

It was a Saturday night after a successful case that the team went out drinking together to celebrate. You may have let Penelope and Emily influence you into drinking your body weight in whatever liquor was put in front of you. Spencer hardly drank, however he allowed himself to have a few drinks, his tolerance being so low that he could feel a buzz after just one.

You were too far gone to remember the events of the night but you did know that you and Spencer left together. The night was spent with drunken sex and whatever else you two got up to within the span of seven hours. You both woke up the next morning and it was still okay. There was no sneaking out when someone was sleeping, no forcing them out. You two actually spent a good portion of the morning together. The only issue? You got more attached. It was like you associated the sex with mutual feelings, the dream of actually finding someone to settle with.

You’d gotten so caught up with the fantasy that you just had to tell the girls at work during one of your morning gossip sessions.

“I don’t know, I just feel like this could be the start of something great. I really do like him, he means the world to me. I just wish that I could say it.” You admitted, leaning against Penelope’s desk while sipping from your coffee mug.

“Well, I say just go for it! Our genius needs to settle down.” Penelope encouraged, her eyes widening with excitement. “You two can have babies! I don’t think we could ever have enough BAU babies.” She gushed.

JJ was laughing softly from her spot in the room at her friend’s excitement. “I mean, the worst he could really do is say no. No harm in trying to ask, right?” The blonde let her shoulders bounce. In a way, she could feel a pang of jealousy in her chest. You and Spencer? That didn’t seem right at all.

“He won’t say no! I am convinced he loves you! I mean, you always brighten his day.” Penelope was piling on encouragement, pushing you to take the bull by the horns and just get yourself out there, to put your feelings first.”Plus, you can invite him to Rossi’s wedding!”

It was safe to say that it was working. You felt a wave of confidence rush over you, taking it with stride. JJ had a point, Spencer wouldn’t be rude about turning you down. The pain would still be there in the event he did but at least he wouldn’t be cruel, right?

“I’m gonna go talk to him about it. It’s a paperwork day, so it’ll be quiet.” Plus, she could just delve into files that needed to be filed away if he did let her down gently. It was the perfect plan!

You were planning on talking to him later in the afternoon, just enough time to give yourself a pep talk. However, Emily and Penelope killed that idea with a snap of a finger as a case had come up. It came with the territory of your job – make plans and have them destroyed by some loser who decided to massacre multiple people for the fun of it.

***

The case had taken a turn for the worse whenever JJ and Spencer were hot on the unsub’s trail, being locked inside a bank with no way to contact the outside world. The only thing anyone had was shitty footage from the security camera inside with no audio to accompany it. All you could do was assume what was happening as you stared at the screen, Emily beside you as she was talking to Penelope about getting anything if they could.

Their body language said it all though, the way that JJ seemed tense and the way Spencer had a look of… Relief? You didn’t know what was happening in the slightest but it was like you could feel your stomach churn, your heart slowly cracking.

You didn’t want to assume it was anything too crazy, you didn’t need to worry. You were being silly. Once there were shots inside, everyone was rushing to the back door of the building to get inside. You were frozen in place, eyes focused on the room now filled with agents and cops.

The sound of everyone talking was muffled, your mind somewhere else as you were slowly turning to the screen before approaching the two agents when they were coming out of the building. “Are you two okay?!” She asked quickly, a shaky edge to her voice as she was bringing a hand to her face. “This job stresses me out,”

There was lighthearted, yet awkward laughter as you were eventually heading back to the SUVs.

There was a tension hanging in the air any time that Spencer and JJ were together, the two barely sharing glances as the rest of the team were rejoicing and ending the case and preventing losing innocent people as well as potentially losing two of their best agents.

There was something wrong but you weren’t going to say anything.

Clearly something personal happened in the moment they were forced to play along with whatever the unsub wanted from them. You were curious but you didn’t want to bring it up, maybe out of fear of hearing something that you don't wanna hear.

You didn’t ask Spencer to be your date to Dave’s wedding, instead going on your own.

The whole environment there made you sad. You were thrilled for Dave and Krystall but it was an atmosphere oozing with love while you were alone, the man you wanted to ask being weird and not speaking to you the way he usually did. There was a lot you wondered about.

Did you do something wrong? Was he angry at you? More questions echoed in your mind, feeling defeated on how such a good relationship has fizzled out to nothing.

You were brought out of your thoughts whenever Penelope was passing out whatever concoction of drink she came up with. “Here you go, sour puss.” The blonde spoke while placing the mixed drink in front of you at the bar, you offering a small smile in response.

“It’s a good day, don’t be sad in the corner all night.” Luke added soon after while you were waving it off. He didn’t know the extent of why you felt the way you did. He just knew that you had been in a funk for days, not being your usual self.

“I’m not sad. I’m just.. I’m not really in the mood.” It was honest, however you knew that you had to show up for Dave, he was family. You would’ve done the same for anyone else in the team for whatever event.

In the midst of your denial, your gaze had fallen on Spencer and JJ, the two talking together at a table farther from the rest of you. It could’ve been some deep, poorly concealed anger that had you putting the cup down and walking over to the two who seemed to be having a great time together. You were falling apart and it was like he wasn’t even paying attention. It stung.

“Spencer! JJ!” You announced your presence with a smile, your hands clasping together. “I didn’t get to come talk to you guys earlier. I wanted to say hi.” You began. “Also, why are you two isolated from the team?! Come on!”

What felt like a knife to your chest was the way Spencer looked at you with a lack of interest, almost as if your presence was bothersome. “Oh, we were just talking. We are fine, we will catch up later.” The male answered, hoping the answer was good enough to be left alone again.

That was the moment you broke.

“What the hell have I done to you? You’ve been dodging my calls and texts for days and you barely talk to me anymore. What is your deal?” In an attempt to not ruin the beautiful ceremony, you were keeping a calm demeanor. Even if you could feel the cracks in the facade.

“What? Nothing! You’re acting like a child. I’m just having a conversation.” Spencer frowned, his attention finally on you for the first time in days. “You act like we talk every minute of the day.”

“Because we normally do! Come on, Spencer. Just talk to me.” You were begging for a minute of his time, an explanation. For days you’d questioned every interaction and every word said. You thought your relationship was stronger than that.

“I am talking to you. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.”

JJ looked visibly uncomfortable with the whole interaction, so that’s whenever you were turning your attention to her. “And you, I’ve been trying to talk to you for days and you don’t give me the time of day. What is happening? Do you both have a problem with me?”

“Look-”

“No! She has a point, Spencer. I’ll be honest with her.” JJ finally found her voice, although the nervousness was gone now, instead just taking the situation for what it is. “I’m sorry,” The words made your knees weak.

You knew what was coming.

“The other day, the key to us getting out of there and preventing any injuries, I played truth or dare. Which, I know what you’re thinking but it wasn’t a childish game in the slightest.” She said slowly while you watched her in disbelief.

“Anyway, I was told to give a secret that I’d never tell anyone else. Something I’d take to the grave and-”

“You told Spencer that you loved him.” You finished, throat tight as you were restraining the urge to either sob or scream at the blonde. “It’s just funny that this all came out after I told you what I wanted to do. You never showed him the time of day before.”

“I don’t think you pay enough attention. Spencer has always been my best friend and we spend time together alone quite frequently. Just because you had sex one time doesn’t mean that you both were in an unspoken relationship.” JJ responded, having the audacity to act as if she didn’t break girl code to the highest degree.

There were a few moments of silence, every intrusive thought bouncing through your mind. Your gaze was briefly turning to David and Krystall, seeing the two happily talking with guests before you were tuning your head to the pair in front of you.

You reached over for the glass of water that one of them ended up putting down, hand clutching the glass before you made the wise decision of throwing water in their direction, the glass emptying on the both of them before the same glass was being placed down on the table.

Without a word, you turned on your heels so you could walk away from the two. The reception was over for you, no feeling of celebration. You leaving with tears brimming your eyes caught the attention of the small group of agents, the group now turning their heads briefly to look at Spencer and JJ.

“Oh no..” Penelope frowned, the normally bubbly blonde turning to Tara, Luke and Matt.

“Something tells me that JJ and Spencer are talking..”

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