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turtletaubwrites · 1 month

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Misty Eyes ~ Part 4

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI.

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5041

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: This new life feels like a dream, and you're finding it hard to believe. How could you be here, how could you be safe? How could you be wanted?

Author's Note: Heeyy, so I swear there's smut in here, but our misty eyed reader has trauma, so a little patience is required.

Thank you so much @pinejayy for this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, Hair-Pulling, Birth Control, Unprotected Sex (stay safe out there!), Forced Pregnancy (Implied/Intended), Sterilization (Implied/Intended), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Penis in Vagina Sex, Soft Trafalgar D. Water Law, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

“You’re such a–”

Law kissed his laugh into your mouth, and you couldn’t hold onto your outrage.

Instead, you held onto him.

Law.

He was alive. He was with you. He was kissing you.

One of his hands teased into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along your cheek. You didn’t know what to reach for, your fingers clawing into his shirt while you went to pieces.

His kiss was somehow desperate and gentle. Deep and slow, with needy sounds shared between you. Writhing under the weight of his body, your eyes went misty from overwhelm. You wanted to pull him inside your chest, keeping him in the hole he’d carved, so you could feel this way forever.

“Are you okay,” he breathed, his thumb smoothing away the grateful tears.

“So good,” you laughed, the sweet smile he gave pulling a happy sob from your throat.

Law kissed along your temple, your cheek, following your jaw down as you gasped, your breath shuddering through you. He breathed along your skin, tracing the tip of his nose, then his lips over the crook of your neck before leaving gentle kisses, a deep hum vibrating through him.

Your skin was electric, shivers running through you as you arched your back. Breathy whines escaped you, crying out when he rasped your name.

You tugged at his shirt, moaning as you yanked it up to feel his skin. He pulled back from your struggle, and your breath caught when he stared down at you. His golden eyes were dark as he pulled his shirt off, your eyes fluttering back at the sight of his tattooed skin. His body caged you in before he tasted your lips again.

He was still pinning you, your thighs trapped beneath his weight.

But that gave you more access to pull at the buttons of his jeans, whining when he stopped your frantic fingers.

“Can I take my time with you,” Law asked, his husky voice making you shake. He brought your knuckles to his lips before he looked around, brows creasing at the sight of hate papering the walls. “There’s a couch in my quarters next door, do you–”

Your breathless “yes,” interrupted him, and he kissed you again before helping you up. He laughed at your pout when he pulled his shirt back on, before leading you by the hand.

“Aren’t you the captain? Can’t you do what you want,” you whispered behind him while he looked back and forth down the hallway.

He ignored you, pulling you toward the next room when he saw the coast was clear. You couldn’t help the giggles that escaped, echoing down the corridor. Your laughs only grew when he huffed, pressing you against the closed door when he got you inside.

“Do you remember sneaking into the storeroom to steal weapons?”

His scolding glare faltered, his lips quirking as you watched the memory form in his mind.

“Yeah, you got us caught,” he taunted, tracing his fingers along your hair, his eyes seeming to eat up every detail of your face. Including the indignant furrowing of your brows.

“I did not! It wasn’t my fault, I only tripped because Cora dropped his…”

It was subtle, but the slight grimace on Law’s face made you want to never speak again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I don’t think I know what really happened with you and–”

“It’s fine. I don’t wanna talk about it,” Law straightened, pulling back from you before adding, “not right now.”

How do I fuck up literally everything?

“Come on,” he tugged at your fingers with a small smile. His quarters were large, and you bit your lip at the sight of his bed, his covers ruffled from last night’s sleep. He gestured for you to join him on the couch, but you skirted around him.

“Oh my gods, are you kidding me?”

A large set of shelves lined the wall behind the couch, and you misted out of his grabbing hands to get a closer look.

Turning back to him with a laugh, your eyes wide with gleeful shock, you pointed at the displays.

“I haven’t seen these in ages!”

You reached into the shelf, picking up one of the early Sora comics from its display stand.

“Hey, careful,” Law cautioned, throwing his long legs over the back of the couch to take the thin book from your grasp.

“Really,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as he returned the book with care. You looked over the rest of the shelves, leaning in to examine the rows of coins he’d displayed between the comics.

“You’re such a fucking dork.”

“Hobbies are important for maintaining mental health,” he said blandly, not meeting your eyes as he looked over his collection.

“Whatever you say, nerd,” you laughed, touching his waist to force him to look at you. “I think it’s cute.”

He scowled as you bounced on your toes, narrowing his eyes before giving in, pulling you into a kiss.

“Shut up.”

His soft command touched your lips, your laughter still humming through the kiss. Grinning, you curled your fingers into his black hair.

“Make me.”

Law huffed a laugh, your favorite smirk shining through before you squealed as he picked you up. He sat you on the back of the couch, legs scrambling around his waist. Your mind was empty of everything, but the need to feel more of him.

Until you slid backwards.

“Shit, sorry,” he apologized, gripping your arms before your back could hit the cushions with your head toward the floor. He helped you turn, moving your legs to the side so you laid across the long couch.

“Already trying to kill me?”

You couldn’t remember feeling this light, this free, as you did teasing him. As he crawled on top of you, the weight and scent of him making you sigh. The feel of his tongue trailing your neck before he nibbled at your ear, bringing another squeal while you shivered. The look in his eyes almost brought tears to your own.

I can’t believe he’s real.

“Not yet,” he purred, tracing his hand along your waist. He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you until you couldn’t take it. You whined, fighting with his shirt until he grinned and pulled it off.

“Impatient–” he scolded, giving a surprised laugh when your hands reached the waistband of his jeans again. Law moved you gently so he could sit beside you, but you wasted no time in straddling him. You’d already tossed your shirt aside, fingers reaching for the clasp of your bra.

“Hey, hold on, Y/N,” he hummed, hugging you against him to slow you down. The sound of your heart somehow pounded in your head, even though it was trapped in the next room.

Law sat back, his warm hands stroking down your arms.

“You’re gorgeous,” he praised, eyes soft as he gazed at you. His head fell back, letting out a surprised moan when you rocked your body forward. The feel of his hard cock through all that fabric stunned you, and your body grinded onto his on instinct.

His whispered, “fuck,” was lost in a feverish kiss, and you managed to tear your bra off while his strong hands pulled your hips down further.

“Wait,” he muttered, voice almost pained. Pulling away, his eyes rolled back slightly at the sight of your bare chest. You had to bite your lip hard not to reach for him again.

“What is it?”

Worry had broken through your question, and you couldn’t fight the fears that crept in. Both of you panted for a few moments, lungs fighting for air after stealing it from each other’s lips.

He doesn’t want me. How could he want me after Doffy touched me?

“I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he checked in, smoothing the hair from your face. “We don’t need to rush anything.”

You knew his words should be comforting, but the hot pressure of tears built in your throat, your mind filling with the torment of words that you knew weren’t your own.

‘My disgusting little doll. So pretty. So sick. That’s the only thing you’re good for, huh? Such an empty little toy. Maybe one day you'll be worth more. Think you can carry the blood of kings in this weak body of yours?’

“Y/N? Y/N, you’re safe.”

Part of you heard his voice while your body stayed frozen, eyes stuck wide as your nails dug into his shoulders. Fighting to shake free, you mumbled what was meant to be an apology as your hands slumped onto your lap. The sticky weight of wet cement kept every thought and movement sluggish, and you barely reacted when Law pulled a thin blanket off the back of the couch, wrapping you up.

“Mmsrry,” you slurred, unsure how long you’d been frozen. He rubbed his hands lightly on your blanket covered arms, shaking his head.

“Don’t be. Just let me know what you need, okay? Can I get you some water?”

A jarring laugh fell from your lips, but you managed to nod. He sat you on the couch, fussing with the blanket to make sure you were comfortable and covered. Burning tears pricked your eyes as he went into an adjacent room. The sound of running water covered a strangled cry, but your eyes were dry when he returned with a glass.

Law sat on the coffee table, but stayed quiet, leaving your thoughts to berate you for putting him through this. Shame piled on you, until something in you cracked open, his gentle question opening the way.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“You can do surgery,” you remembered, the words rough and empty.

“Yeah, I can,” he confirmed after a pause. Your body almost went slow again, but the urgency of terror pushed you, forcing you to reach for help.

“Can you, please… please, sterilize me?”

Your fragile voice strained high at the last words, and the rocking of your body sped up, your eyes clamping shut.

“Please, Law, I can’t–”

“I’m right here, Y/N. You can talk to me.”

Tears fell onto your thighs as you looked down. Nauseating guilt poured through you, a confession flooding from your lips like bile.

“I was selfish. I wasn’t ready. I’m too weak.”

Law argued softly, his hand on your shoulder doing nothing to stop the stream of ugly truths.

“I tricked… I made her help me,” you bawled, memories flowing in until you shook with shame. “Baby 5 still does everything. I took advantage of her. He would have hurt her, killed her! I’m disgusting, I’m sick. How could I–”

“Y/N, stop,” he commanded, shocking you into stillness. “You are not sick. You were a prisoner. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I–” you choked, blinking into his steady gaze, “Doffy said I’d finally prove myself if I… If I could carry a superior life in my body. If I could survive it tearing itself out of me.”

Your ragged breath caught in your lungs at the sight of Law’s towering rage, a barely contained snarl only dropping when he released the bruising grip he’d taken on your shoulder. You interrupted his apology, somehow feeling calmer after his display of anger.

“Baby 5’s compulsion has only gotten worse over the years,” you explained, detached from the story now as you followed Law’s orders. “I told her I needed her help, and she did it, even though she disagreed. Even though she would be punished if he found out.”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

“Shouldn’t you be asking the young master about this,” Baby 5 frowned, crossing her arms as she assessed you.

“Yes, but–”

“Are you keeping secrets from him,” she accused, one of her arms shifting into a sickle to hold against your throat, even though she knew it wouldn’t connect. “I knew you were weak, but I never thought you’d be a traitor.”

“Please, Baby 5,” you begged, hands misty as you held them toward her, “I need you. I need your help.”

“... You need me?”

~🔪🔫🗡️~

The gravity of what you’d done sank into you again, but his waiting gaze pushed you through, separating from the pain and shame behind your confession.

“I wasn’t ready. I never wanted to be ready. Especially for him. Even when I wanted to be his, I never wanted that. He promised I’d be rewarded, that I’d be worthy of the family. But I never wanted kids, and I knew that he… I knew I might not survive–”

Fear and bile caught up with you, leaning forward over your lap to hit your fists against your forehead.

“We’re safe here,” he reminded you, grabbing your wrists gently until you shuddered, sitting up again.

“I couldn’t go anywhere without him knowing. I wouldn’t be able to hide pills without someone finding them, and reporting me. Everyone…” you choked out, swallowing the humiliation that threatened to spill into the world, “everyone knew what I was. Everyone knew that the only thing I’m good for–”

“Stop saying that,” he seethed, his knuckles going white as his fists clenched in his lap. The rage in him relaxed your body, nodding before you went on.

“I made Baby 5 steal birth control shots for me, and she’d give them to me every three months. I put her life at risk, he would’ve… I’m so selfish.”

Your sins were revealed as the man before you shook beneath his skin. Watching the play of muscles flexing in his jaw was almost soothing.

“I have two months left of this shot,” you pleaded, head falling back against the couch. “Please do the surgery. Please.”

Law stared at you for too long. Your body went weak, slow tears dripping down your temples to your ears, and you were too spent to wipe them away.

I’ll never be safe. Doffy will find me. He’ll chain me up until I give him what he wants. I’ll birth another monster that will taste my blood on their lips before I’m free to die.

If Doffy doesn’t just torture and kill me as soon as he catches me.

“I can do it in a way that can be reversed,” he breathed, his words icing your veins, “but I don’t know another doctor that would know how to reverse it for you safely.”

“I don’t want it reversed,” you flew forward, clawing at his hands. “Just do it, please! If you can reverse it, you don’t have to believe me, but I swear it’s what I want.”

“... Can we think about it for a few days,” he coaxed.

Slow hit your system again.

Of course he wouldn’t do that. It’s all I’m good for.

“I’m not saying no.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, the embarrassment of this whole interaction making you want to sleep forever. “I’m sor–”

“Stop,” he rasped, his fingers in your hair as he cradled your face. “How can I help you feel better right now?”

Another manic laugh left your throat, and you cringed at yourself, fighting not to apologize again.

“Do you,” Law cleared his throat, a tentative smile tugging at his lips, “do you wanna read Sora with me?”

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Do you miss that little traitor?”

“N-no, Doffy, I just–”

He snatched the wanted poster from your grasp, sneering before ripping it in half, letting the pieces fall to the marble floor.

“It’s funny,” he huffed, pinching your cheeks between his long fingers, “you’ve been so loyal all these years, and that boy betrayed our family. But he’s the useful one.”

Holding in your cries at his punishing grip, you braced yourself for whatever came next.

It was a brutal kiss, and you fell into it, giving everything you were to your king.

Doffy pulled back, that wide grin beaming down at you, his fingers tracing your face, pressing into your mouth.

“Such a pretty doll.”

~🦩🦩🦩~

Small whimpers from your own lips shook you awake, and you stilled. The heat and pressure of Doffy’s body didn’t seem to be near.

And the sheets weren’t silk.

“Good morning,” Law rasped, his hair beautifully mussed as he looked up from a book. The couch looked cozy with his pillow and blanket, bringing a disgruntled whine from your throat as you stretched across his lonely bed.

“Are you up for work today?”

He chuckled at your second whine, and you felt his weight on the edge of the bed while you buried your face in the pillow.

“You don’t wanna disappoint Ikkaku,” he teased, shaking your shoulder gently. “Believe me, I know.”

More wordless complaints made him laugh, and that sound alone got you to shake your sleep away.

That, and the soft kisses he gave, the slow sharing of morning breath that kicked you both to the bathroom to brush teeth, fingers pinching at each other's ribs.

So fucking cute. Until you left his quarters, and he held up that stoic face in front of his crew, even though you could tell they saw through it.

The Surgeon of Death. That angry, smirking, dangerous kid that turned into a vicious Warlord of the Sea.

He was a sweetie pie.

I can’t wait to call him that.

You had a feeling that “Weps” would be your favorite position on the ship. There was something about the sonar that scratched a part of your brain, and Ikkaku was still the most relaxing person to be around. No need to fill the quiet with chatter, and no personal questions to skirt. Just instructions, a few jokes now and then, and the occasional “no slouching at sonar, slacker,” always followed with a wink.

“Ooh, I think you’re in trouble.”

Your head shot up at her whispered tease, only to find Law's grumpy face assessing you from the doorway.

Was I slouching?

“Our new recruit will join you for morning shifts for the rest of the week, and I expect a full report on her performance.”

“Yes, captain,” she nodded, her face matching his serious tone. You tried not to gulp.

“Come with me,” the captain ordered, and you found yourself slipping easily into obedience, low level anxiety wrapping comfortably around you.

“Am I in trouble,” you tried to joke, keeping your voice quiet in the halls.

“What? No,” he shook his head, gesturing to the now familiar door. “It’s lunchtime.”

Your soft, “oh,” was drowned out by the crew, although there weren’t many in the galley at the moment. Jean Bart’s greeting boomed from his massive form, the sound heavy enough for multiple pirates.

Anxiety stuck with you throughout the meal, up until Law brought you to the training room.

“I thought we were doing an interview today,” you asked, feet still planted in the hallway.

“Changed my mind. Unless you’re too scared to fight me,” he deadpanned, walking into the room without glancing to see if you’d follow. That feeling was back. That familiar, yet thrilling feeling of playful competition, and it pulled you out of your spiral.

“Jerk,” you huffed, chasing after him.

“Disrespecting your captain again,” he tutted as he pulled you onto the mats. He faced off with you with a smirk, looking you up and down while you moved into a fighting stance. “You’ve got the nerve to mouth off when you’re this out of shape?”

You were the first to strike this time, and it did not go your way.

“You know, you could be a little nicer,” you grumbled, nudging his book with your toes. After an embarrassing training session, annoyingly separate showers, and a dinner with too many energetic crewmates, you shoved your feet onto his lap while you stretched across his couch.

“Could I?”

The purr in his voice made your breath hitch, pressing your toes a little further into his lap until he tossed his book on the table.

He caught your feet, tattooed hands rubbing gently before he pushed them away. More guilt and fear that he didn’t want you started to creep in, until you felt his weight. Until he kissed those doubts away.

“How could I be nicer,” he rasped, his facial hair making you shiver as he breathed along your neck. You wrapped your legs around his waist, loving the quiet gasp he let out.

“Fuck me, Law.”

His body moved against yours, just a bit, and your back arched at the feel of his fingers digging into your hips.

“Please,” you begged, with your nails twisting through his hair, “I want you.”

He kissed you again, and his heavy-lidded eyes rolled back when you scraped his bottom lip between your teeth.

Your body mourned the loss of his heat as he sat back on his heels. The urge to grab him, to pull him toward you, to take him in, had you fighting yourself, but you couldn’t stop your body from writhing. Near-panicked fingers dragged over your own clothes, and you tried not to sob with need.

“Y/N,” he coaxed, his ragged breathing like another temptation you had to fight against, “I want you to feel safe. We can stop anytime, you can tell me–”

“Please, gods, fuck me, Law. I nee–”

Your desperate moan echoed into his mouth as he grinded against you. He helped you rip the shirt from his body, then pulled you up to sit as you tore the suffocating fabric from your own skin.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Law swooned, going to his knees on the floor for better access to trail his lips down your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. He let out a needy moan when you threw your bra to the side. You nodded as he glanced up at you, then arched your back when he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples.

He massaged your breast while he sucked and swirled his tongue, his free hand rubbing a thumb across your other nipple, balancing out the attention. You leaned back on your hands, gasping when he switched sides, when he moaned with your flesh in his mouth.

Then you pulled at his arms, needing to feel more of him. You agreed to his breathy, “bed,” and kissed your way across his shoulder and neck while he carried you across the room.

Your long lost friend crawled onto the bed on his knees to lay you down gently against the pillows, and you couldn’t take another second of waiting.

Finally, he let you tear at his jeans, falling forward to cage you in while you reached into the stiff fabric. Taking his cock in your hand for the first time, even still constrained in his tight pants, made your mind go blank with need. The veins pulsing beneath your fingers sent your body bucking beneath his.

“Wait,” you pleaded, pathetic noises leaving your throat as he moved away. But his movement just brought his lips down your skin again, until his darkened eyes looked up at you from between your legs, his fingers dancing at the waistband of your pants.

“Yes,” you ordered before he could ask.

Running your fingers along your inner thighs, you lost yourself in the way he looked at you. Law’s eyes devoured every bare inch of your skin, the wet aching center of you just waiting for him to take you.

“Please,” you begged again.

He let out a sound that might have been a growl, but it was lost when he plunged his face into your folds. You cried out his name, reaching for his fingers that had wrapped around your hips, then tugged at the strands of his hair again, clinging while he ate at you.

The sensations were overwhelming, his hungry tongue, his facial hair teasing at your skin, the whimpers and whines he sent vibrating into that sensitive piece of you. His little sounds got louder each time you pulled at his hair, as you tried to draw him up toward you.

Law drank you in like you were the last bit of water left on the planet. Kissing, and sucking, and plunging deep, his eyes burned hot while he watched you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he slurred, messy face coming up for air for just a second. He thrust against the mattress, his jeans undone, but still restricting him while he writhed.

Tugging at his hair wasn’t enough, now you were reaching further. You scratched at his shoulders, your fingers dragging across his skin as you fought to pull him up. He just moaned at the contact, bringing his own fingers to push inside you, curling gently while he sucked your clit.

Your back arched for him, but your breathing turned to chaos. The word, “please,” filled the air, but your voice was broken, almost panicked.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright,” he pulled away, wiping his face before he moved out from between your legs. He touched your cheek with his fingertips, sitting beside you as his soothing voice surrounded you.

“You’re safe, it’s okay. What do you need– whoa!”

His pants had to come off. You needed to make him feel good. The need was so intense, so vital, you didn’t think you could breathe until you felt his pleasure.

“Fuck me, please.”

“But you–”

You interrupted his counter, sitting up to kiss his still wet face.

“Please, Law. I’m telling you what I want,” you pleaded, your hands playing dangerously close along his stomach, but waiting for permission. “I want this. I want you.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me to stop if you–”

“I promise.”

He stared for a long moment, and you almost sobbed for him, aching for him now. When he crawled off the bed to strip, you forgot everything else. Those gorgeous tattoos added to the work of art that was his lean, sculpted body. The sight of his thick cock springing free from those tight pants, already so swollen and dripping for you, had you twisting in his sheets.

“Law, need you…”

“I need you too, Y/N,” he rasped, crawling up your body again. He scanned your face, bringing the hard length of him to slide along your core, arching your back while he drenched himself in you. “So wet…”

Another delicate kiss left the taste of both of you on your tongue before his eyes drank you in. A small, impatient whine started to form in your throat, but the slow stretch of his leaking cock took your breath away.

“You feel incredible,” he sighed while you pulled him closer. His lips traced down your jaw, under your ear, letting you hear his soft, eager moans as he filled you. You could feel every vein throbbing as his shaft dragged through you, until there was nowhere left to fill.

He stayed for a second too long, fully hilted within you, but your demanding body took over.

Law moaned, bracing himself on an arm to keep from falling onto you. Your hips were driving up to meet his, fucking onto him while you panted, starved for him.

“Gods, you’re perfect.”

His praise was joined by deep, rolling thrusts that sent your eyes fluttering white. Still writhing beneath him, you gasped when his lips found yours again, one of his hands stroking your hair.

“How does this feel, baby?”

He started to ask more, his voice rough as he checked in, but you couldn’t help but laugh. He started to slow, but you clawed at him.

“So good,” you grinned, fighting to hold in another giggle. “You feel so good, sweetie pie.”

Law’s face, heavy with a mix of heat and concern jerked a bit, his eyes narrowing on you as his lips twitched.

“What’s that now,” he dared, shoving into you just a bit faster while you choked on gasping laughs.

“You’re supposed to be,” you paused, overwhelmed by the feel of him, “so scary. But you’re just a sweetie–”

He shut you up with his tongue down your throat, his fingers fisting into your hair, but not hard enough. Breaking off the kiss, he flashed you that wicked smile, meeting your challenge to prove you wrong.

Your frenzied screams filled the room, but his blown out eyes never left your face, watching your every movement. Still so sweet while he hammered his cock into you. Emotion started to hit, and you didn’t want him to notice and stop. It just felt like a dream, being here with him. Any moment you would wake up to silk sheets, and invisible strings.

Gratitude flooded you, even as your body hit a plateau.

“I need you,” you begged, watching him start to lose that control he clings to. “Law, need to feel you come, plea–”

His thumb carved with the letter, “D,” found your clit, and you clenched your muscles while you screamed for him. You thrashed, letting your legs shake around his hips, and his thrusts stuttered, still so hard and deep as he moaned your name.

He kissed you while he came, and you melted, your body swallowing him in. You wanted him to fill you forever, the hot spill of his pleasure more precious than anything you’d ever held.

Your bodies stayed entwined, breathing into each other as you fought the pressure in your eyes. It felt like ages, yet still not long enough, when he threatened to pull away, leaving a beautiful whisper against your cheek before he moved.

“I missed you, Y/N.”

“Missed you too, sweetie pie,” you teased. You let your body drift into the air, a cloud of delicate water floating above the bed. Ethereal giggles left your form when Law grunted, the lower half of his body falling to the mattress without yours to rest inside.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for that,” he growled, rolling onto his back to look up at your hovering mist.

“Not if I get you first,” you threatened with a kiss. You’d gone solid, straddling him, and giggling into his mouth when he dug fingers into your thighs. His low, dangerous chuckle made you shiver, gasping when he touched your face, rubbing his thumb across your lips.

“You already got me,” Law teased, his eyes still dark as they poured over you. “Now it’s my turn to make you come.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I felt bad for all the smutty stop and go's, but I hope you don't mind. Trauma takes time, and healing isn't a linear path, but that doesn't mean that pleasure is out of the question. Patience, and a caring partner can make all the difference. I hope that none of you relate, but if you do, you're not alone. 🖤

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 5

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

154 notes · View notes

fandoms--fluff · 6 months

Note

Hi?? Soo I have an idea

How about an one where reader gets kidnapped and is like in the brink of death but, Hope comes to the rescue just in time and gives R her blood in the last second (but maybe everyone thinks that reader is already dead because we need the angst). Meanwhile R gets to meet Klaus, Hayley and Elijah and have a good time with them but then, R heard Hope's voice calling out to her to come back and that she loves her but before leaving R gets Klaus and Hayley approval.

When R wakes up she's all happy and shit to get her in-laws approval ((Hope probably will think how dork she is.

-K

Jokes On You, Death

Flufftober, October 20th

Female vampire reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: mentions of drinking

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, no, no, come on!" Hope kneels by your body laying on the ground. She killed the group of vampires that kidnapped you just a moment ago. She had tried giving you blood just before your eyes closed, but you didn't wake.

"Please, wake up! Y/n, come on, don't leave me! Okay?!" Hope exclaims, trying to do CPR on you. She has tears streaming down her face.

You open your eyes, looking around your surroundings. Your eyebrows furrow as you stand up. "What the..." You whisper to yourself.

You start walking around the empty mystic falls, it looks gloomy and dark. "Is this a damn prison world or something?" You ask yourself. You walk into the mystic grill.

"Okay, not a prison world," You tell yourself again. There are three people sitting at the counter, one woman and two men. They turn towards you, their eyebrows all raised, seeing a teenage girl standing in front of them.

"Um, Hi?" you do a tiny hand wave before going into the backroom. You remember hearing about the storage room back there having an entrance to the underground tunnels, and this is a good time to explore, you think.

You walk back out a minute later. "Okay, no tunnel in weird different universe" you talk to yourself again, going behind the counter.

As you pour a drink of whisky, they're still all staring at you. You look up at them, an eyebrow raised. "What?" you look at them for a second before recognition lights up in your eyes.

"Oh, you're Hope's parents and uncle. She has a picture of you guys with her as a baby on her nightstand" You put it together before downing your drink.

"You know Hope?" Hayley asks, eyes lit up. "Yep," You answer, pouring more into your glass.

"How do you know her" Klaus' protectiveness is surfacing. "Don't have to get all Papa bear on me, I know her from school. Well her school, I don't actually go to classes, I just annoy Ric while waiting for her to get back and ya know that stuff" You say. They all stare at you blankly. "She's my girlfriend. We're dating." You deadpan.

"You're dating?" Elijah's the one to break the silence. "Yep, and don't overthink it, people don't hang you anymore for being gay. If they did, I'd be way dead by now" You finished your drink.

"You guys are- were happy?" Hayley swallows a lump in her throat. "Yeah, of course we are. What do you mean by 'were'?" Your eyebrows furrow, pointing your finger in question.

"Well, sweetie, uh, you're on the other side" Hayley softly tells you.

"Those jackasses killed me? Damn it" you groan before pausing. "Hope's still there, fuck" you say and walk out of the grill. You make your way to the moldy, old, blood-covered dungeon. The three of them follow you, worried. They surprisingly have to work pretty hard to keep up with how fast you're going to get there.

Some way you can now apparently see Hope kneeling next to your body, crying. "Shit" You whisper. You realize all the vampires are dead, so that's a good thing.

"She's going to be okay, don't worry" Hope steps up to you, hand gently placed on your shoulder. "I think she really loves you," Hayley tells you. You look up at her, shock taking over your face.

Before you can reply, you start having a tingle run through your body. "What's going on?" Klaus asks, seeing your body shaking and your confused face. "I don't know, feel's as if my body is being pulled through something, oh my god" Your head snaps to the scene of Hope and see your fingers from your body moving exactly how you're moving them right now.

"Make sure she's happy," Klaus tells you, a small smile playing on his face. You nod, and the next second your body is pulled back into the living plane into your other actual body.

You gasp for air, sitting up. Hope wraps her arms around your body and pulls you to her chest. "Oh my god, I thought you were dead" Hope's voice wavers. You gently pull away and pull her back into your arms instead.

She softly shakes and nuzzles her face into the nape of your neck. "Technically I kinda was, but now I'm back. And I love you so so much" You play with her hair. "I love you too" Hope whispers.

"Why don't we get out of here and when we get back to your room, boy do I have a story for you" You stand up with her and link your arms. "Sounds good" Hope smiles and wipes her tears away.

"You're way too smiley. Should I be worried?" Hope raises an eyebrow. "Nah, I think you're good" You guys walk out the door, the sun starting to set.

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson x female reader #hope mikaelson x reader #hope mikaelson x fem reader #hope mikaelson agsnt #hope mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #hayley marshall #cute #fluff #imagines #thevampirediaries #fanfic #writing #theoriginals #comfort #legacies

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callsign-magnolia · 1 year

Text

Undiagnosed // Ch. 1

Mature Content 18+

Jake Seresin x Neurodivergent OC

Summary: Katie Blair grew up trying to be the perfect daughter. She always struggled to be the prim and proper little girl her parents wanted. Big personality as a kid, but now at 25, she's the shy admiral's daughter who just keeps her head down and tries to get through law school. So what happens when she's had enough and with help from a certain Lieutenant, she gets out.

Warnings: Emotional abuse, Major Character death, asshole parents, Jake is a jerk to start.

Word Count: 6.0k

Masterlist

“I’m sorry, Admiral Blair. Commander Kazansky is dead.”

Commander Kazansky is dead.

Tears welled my eyes as I stood in the doorway, my father behind me. “What?” My dad stepped around me, pushing me back into the house. I walked into the living room, seeing my mother sitting in her chair, glasses on her nose and book in her hand. “Who in god’s name is at our door at nine o’clock at night?” She asked, not looking at up. “A-an officer-“ She huffed, slamming her book shut before she ripped her glasses off her face and looked at me. “Speak up. I can’t hear you when you mumble and stutter.” I nodded, taking a deep breath and trying again. “An officer is at the door. Admiral Kazansky is dead.” I said as I rested my hand on the back of the couch. She stared at me for a moment before scoffing and putting her glasses back on. “Held on long enough, didn’t he?” “Mother!” I scolded. She huffed, slamming her book on the side table, standing. “Hush!” I immediately went quiet as she approached me. “He has been sick for years now. Your father has been waiting in the wings for his moment! And this is his moment!” She yelled, pointing her finger in my face.

“And you will not ruin his image!” I nodded, not meeting her eyes as tears streaked my cheeks. “Admiral Kazansky passed in his sleep earlier.” My father said as he walked into the living room. “And you’re crying for him!” Mom said, smacking my arm, making me jump. “He was a good man, mama!” She rolled her eyes, going back to her chair. “A man you met only three times.” I bit my lip, taking in a shaky breath. “I will be going up to my room.” I said turning, only for my dad to stop me. “Dr. Nieman says you have an exam next week; I expect you to be studying.” I nodded as he squeezed my shoulder. “Yes sir.” I said before he let me go, walking past me and allowing me to go upstairs. Once in my room I shut the door, taking a deep breath before going over to my fish tank, pulling out some food to feed them. They rushed to the top as I dropped the food, making me giggle. “Greedy little guys, huh?” I asked, knowing they wouldn’t reply. “Georgie!” I scolded the guppy who pushed Simon out of the way. “Oh my god, I’m scolding my fish.” I sighed before sitting down at my desk, deciding I better crack open the law textbook before my father came in and yelled at me for not working hard enough.

A few days went by and finally it was the day of Iceman’s funeral. I rode with my parents to the funeral, sitting in the backseat quietly as we rode from the funeral home to the gravesite. Once we pulled up and got out, I looked around at the sea of black dress uniforms, straightening out my own black dress as I stepped out of the truck. “Now,” My mom said as she walked over. “Stand still and be quiet, I don’t want to hear and squalling from you.” I nodded as she took my dad’s arm. “Yes ma’am.” I fell in step behind them, walking slowly through the grass and between the graves before finally stopping. My parents would sit, while I stood behind them, my heels sinking into the soft ground. We watched as the casket was carried over, and the funeral started. I was fine until TAPS started; it always made me emotional at these things. But I stood there, stock still but I felt the tears coming, and with them, the fear of my mother.

I inhaled deeply and shakily, fighting off the tears when suddenly my mother reached back, pinching my thigh. I jerked, which made her snap around and glare at me. It wasn’t until Captain Mitchell slammed his wings into the casket that the sobs started. I tried to hold back; my shoulders shook slightly as I held my breath. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, making me want to crawl out of my skin. Why are you crying? You’re not family. You hardly knew the man. The voice resembling my own echoed throughout my head. I attempted to stop, but I couldn’t. The voice was right though, I had no reason to be crying. Once it was done, my mother quickly stood, taking my arm and dragging me back towards the truck. “I told you to stay quiet.” “I tried, momma. Really.” “Well, you didn’t try hard enough!” My back slammed into the truck, on the side facing away from people. “Your father has an image to keep. We can’t have an uncontrollably emotional child messing that up.” I nodded, knowing she was right. “Now, you are going to clean your face, because you have black streaks from your mascara, and then you will redo it on the way to the Kazansky’s. Sarah is doing a celebration of life and we will be in attendance.” She said as she shoved a makeup wipe at me. “Yes, ma’am.” She huffed, straightening her dress. “Now get in the truck. You look like a train wreck, and we can’t have anyone seeing you.” I nodded, getting into the backseat as my mother went to join my dad as he spoke to some people.

~~~

“Woah, who is that?” Coyote asked, looking past me. I turned, spotting who he was referring to. A girl walked in with Admiral Blair and his wife; she must be their daughter I’ve heard about. She had a small smile on her face and kept her eyes on the ground, her hair swishing in the short ponytail as she walked a few steps behind her parents. “She’s sexy.” I raised my brow at Payback, he wasn’t usually one to refer to women in such a way. “I wouldn’t even try it with her.” Coop, a pilot from my old squadron said. “What? Is she snobby?” Payback asked as I continued to watch the girl. “No, man. She’s weird as fuck. She holds eye contact too much; she stares into your soul. She also talks a lot about random things, her stories have side stories, and those stories have side stories! She’s a total weirdo.” I looked back to her; she now had a glass in her hand as her parents spoke with Sarah.

“Hey, Hangman?” I turned to Coyote who was looking at me confused. “You gonna try it with her? I don’t think your girl would like that.” I scoffed, shaking my head. “No,” I scoffed. “Kelly wouldn’t appreciate it. But she’s also not my type.” Coop chuckled. “She’s crazy emotional too. Like a loose cannon.” I looked over at him, sipping the lemonade Sarah gave me. “How do you know all this?” I asked him and he scoffed. “Made the mistake of asking her on a date.” “And was there a second one?” Payback asked and Coop shook his head. “Hell no! We paid, got in our cars and I never texted her again.” I rolled my eyes. Coop has an unrealistic idea of women. He wants a model, someone ‘perfect’. Little does he realize he isn’t such a catch either. “I bet you fifty bucks you couldn’t have a normal conversation with her.” I scoffed at his offer. “What? Fifty not enough? I’ll make it a hundred then and you can see how weird she is yourself.” I shook my head. “You know what, I’ll accept that bet.” I said looking back over to her seeing she had made her way over to the drink table. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need a refill.” I said before walking over to her, a smirk on my face.

~~~

“Hi.” I jumped, startled out of my own little bubble by the voice behind me. I turned to find a blonde man, tall, muscular, with green eyes that glistened in the light and had tiny flecks of light brown around the pupil. “H-hi.” I said, realizing how close he was when I turned around. I took a step back, bumping the table and tripping over my feet. I swung my arm, and he caught it, straightening me out. “I am so sorry! I’m so clumsy!” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all.” I smiled, looking back into his eyes. “I’m sorry Lieutenant, I never got your name.” A look of realization crossed his face, and he held out his hand. “Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, ma’am.” I shook his hand. “You seemed off in your own little world over here.” He caught you, and now he thinks you’re weird before he even properly met you. “Yeah, I um… truth be told, I just got lost in thought.” I admitted. My mind had wandered to how Sarah and the rest of the family would cope without Admiral Kazansky, a thought I probably had no business thinking. “Happens to the best of us, right?” I nodded, looking down at my heels. “So how do you know the Kazansky’s?” He asked, bending down to meet my eyes, making my head snap up. “Oh, my dad is-was just under Admiral Kazansky. Now that he’s gone that makes my dad the new fleet commander.” His eyebrows shot up in realization. “Katie Scarlett!” I froze at my mom’s voice, straightening my back and diverting my eyes from Jacob. “I’m so sorry Lieutenant. Was she bothering you? She tends to run her mouth and talk. Why, she would talk till your ears fell off if you let her.” My neck burned red against my black scoop neck dress, tears gathering in my eyes.

“No ma’am. We were just having a pleasant conversation.” She looked at me, and I took a deep breath, willing the tears away. “Are you okay?” He asked and before I could even react my mother answered for me. “She’s fine. She just tends to be… overly emotional. If you’ll excuse us.” Mom said before gripping my arm and leading me away. “What are you doing?” I jerked my arm away once we were inside and out of sight. “I was having a nice conversation with a nice man!” She reached out, pinching me before placing her hands on her hips. “First off, don’t you ever cop an attitude with me again missy. Second, he is your father’s subordinate! What do you think it will look like if you’re flirting with him?” I furrowed my brows, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Oh my god, I was not flirting, mom! It was a normal conversation.” She scoffed. “Don’t talk back to me. Now, you will not speak to your father’s subordinates. These navy boys are not worth your time, or mine when you get your heart broken.” I rolled my eyes. “Dad seemed to be worth your time.” I popped off. Suddenly I heard a loud slap and my cheek stung. “He was worth my time, and you should be grateful because that’s why you are here.”

“Now,” She said as she composed herself and straightened her dress. “Clean yourself up, quit your crying and join me outside in five minutes.” She said as she pushed past me, making her way back outside. I turned, rushing into the bathroom as tears streaked my face once again. I cleaned myself up as best I could and let my hair down hoping it would hide the growing red mark on my cheek. I took a deep breath and plastered a smile on my face before going back outside. My father was standing with Lieutenant Seresin and a few others. I made my way over as my mom turned to greet me, a smile on her face. But in reality, that smile was a threat, saying if I screwed this up it wouldn’t be good. She looped her arm through mine as I stood next to her. “Oh, and this is our daughter, Katherine Scarlett Blair.” All eyes were on me, so I opted for a small smile. Something simple that couldn’t be mistaken for anything more than what it was. My father continued to ramble as I looked through the group. Immediately catching the blue eyes of Arnold Cooper, he smirked and waved as I turned my head away. I couldn’t stand him. He was so rude on our date, letting me go on then only to tell me how stupid the topic was and then went on to critique everything about me.

Your eyes are too far apart.

Your bottom lip is too big, it makes your smile look weird.

You’re too tall in those heels.

Your thighs are too big.

Anything he could find wrong, he pointed out. I left there crying and he never called or texted me again, which I was grateful for. I looked away, staring out at the ocean, ignoring the conversation. I wonder if I could just get a boat and take off. Quit law school, leave my parents behind and just go. Travel somewhere they would never think to find me. Like Nepal maybe? More specifically Kathmandu. It’s beautiful and I could do lots of hiking and exploring. “Katherine.” I turned, looking up at my mother who had a harsh look on her face. “I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” I asked, turning back to the group. Lieutenant Seresin nodded. “Admiral Blair says you’re in Law school. Which one?” Of course, daddy would mention law school. “USD school of Law.” He smiled at me. “And how long do you have left before you graduate?” I opened my mouth to answer when my father cut me off. “She about to finish her first year. She’s on her way to being the best lawyer in California.” My parents didn’t have that much hope for me. They just wanted me to make good money. “Nice, how do you like it?” Another Lieutenant asked, he had a mustache that most people couldn’t pull off. “She loves it. It’s been her dream since she was a little girl.” My mom said as she ran her fingers through my ponytail.

“Is there a certain type of law you want to practice?” Lieutenant Seresin asked. Once again, I was answered for. “Either medical law or corporate law. She just can’t decide.” I nodded, just going along with it. Everyone looked between my parents and me, questioning look in their eyes. “Well I just wanted to wish you guys the best of luck on this mission of yours. I’ve read over the file and I have to say, it’s very dangerous, but you’re the best of the best for a reason.” They all smiled, shaking my dad’s hand before him and my mother walked away. I turned to follow but stopped at the sound of Coop’s voice. “Following mommy and daddy around like a lost puppy?” I kept walking, trying to ignore him. “Can’t even function on her own.” I turned around, glaring at him. “You’re the one that insulted me on that so called date, so why are you even bothering to talk to me? You’re the one that ran around telling everyone how weird I am anyway.” He chuckled, “Just wanted to get a rise out of you sweetheart.” I rolled my eyes, walking away. “Whiny bitch.” My fists clenched at my sides, and it took everything in me to keep walking, but I didn’t have to go far as my mother met me halfway. “What was that?” I furrowed my brows at her. “He just wanted a rise out of me.” I admitted and she huffed. “Get your emotions in check. Because if you ruin our image, there will be hell to pay.”

A few days later I was on base, heading to my father’s office. I apparently couldn’t be trusted home alone so I would sit in the rec room on base to study while I waited for my father to finish his work. “Hi, daddy.” He smiled at me as I walked into his office. “Hi, sweetie.” Good mood. Safe. I walked over kissing his cheek. “How did your exam go?” I bit my lip, nervous. “I feel like I did good on it. I only had to go back to a handful of questions.” He turned to me; an eyebrow raised. “Well good.” I exhaled lightly in relief, escaping his wrath for now. “Well, you know where the rec room is. I’ll come get you when I’m done.” I nodded, hiking my backpack higher on my shoulder and making my way to the rec room, dress swishing around my thighs. I kept my head down, knowing I would attract attention. It’s always better if I don’t meet their gazes. I made it to the rec room and thankfully, it was empty. I sighed, setting my stuff down and pulling out my laptop and textbooks. I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I got to work, studying.

My phone kept buzzing and I tried to ignore it, but finally I picked it up, looking at the notification before scrolling through my Instagram feed. “Oh ho, look who we have here gentlemen.” I slammed my phone down at the voice, a reaction I’ve picked up from living with my parents. I looked up, seeing Coop walk in with a few other pilots behind him. I didn’t recognize any of them except Lieutenant Seresin, who brought up the back of the line. “And what are you studying, Kate?” I withheld my eyeroll at the nickname and ignored him, going back to jotting down notes from my textbook. “Oh, come on, honey. Don’t ignore me.” I saw him stand up out of my peripheral vision, but I never expected him to snatch my glasses right off my face. “Hey!” I yelled, standing so fast I knocked over my chair. “Arnold!” I yelled his first name, hoping it would catch his attention. “Oh, come on honey! You can’t reach even in those heels!” He teased, making me even more angry. "We're grown adults! Give me back my glasses!" I yelled, jumping to reach my glasses and praying I wasn't flashing the other pilots behind me as my dress shifted around my thighs. "You're cute when you're mad sweetheart." I whipped around to Lieutenant Seresin, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under. "Sorry that I enjoy seeing and I can't do that without my fucking glasses!" I turned around, landing a punch to Coop's gut. "Give them back!" I yelled, snatching them as he hit the ground. "Katy Scarlett!" Fear filled me at the sound of my father's voice yelling my full name.

I froze, dropping my glasses as I saw his figure standing in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?” He asked as Coop stood, holding his gut. “I-um-I-he-“ “Stop fucking stuttering and get your stuff and go home.” He commanded. I nodded as I grabbed my glasses, slipping them back on my face before rushing to gather my things. “NOW!” I was shaking so bad, I put what I could in my bag before gathering everything else in my arms, rushing out as tears slipped down my face. As I walked away, I could hear my father apologizing to everyone for my behavior. I made it outside, getting into my Lexus in hopes I could pull out before he met me outside, but no such luck. He came outside just as I shut my door. I rolled down my window, keeping my head down as he leaned into my car. “You go home, and you wait for me. We’re going to have a serious talk.” I nodded, mumbling a ‘yes sir’ before he stepped away. I rolled up my window, taking the long way home as I cried.

Once home my mother was waiting, I assume my dad called her. I took my stuff upstairs and sat in the dining room, waiting for my dad to get home. Once he did, he was yelling before he even came through the door. “What the hell were you thinking?! Acting that way in front of my men!” I flinched as the door slammed into the wall, hearing his feet stomp through the house. I opened my mouth to answer as he walked through the door, but stopped as he held his hand up. “I don’t fucking care! You assaulted a naval officer!” “YOU DID WHAT?!” I flinched again as my mother screamed in my ear. “He took my glasses.” I mumbled and my mother groaned. “Enough of this mumbling shit! Just speak up!” “He took my glasses! He snatched them right off my face!” I said loudly. “Well, if you would wear your contacts, that wouldn’t have happened!” I crossed my arms over my chest in frustration. “They give me a headache.” “Then take an aspirin!” I stood, turning to her. “I should be able to wear my glasses without someone taking them, and I shouldn’t have to wear contacts if they make my head hurt!” My father quickly stepped closer. My knees buckling out of fear and planting me back in the dining room chair as he bent down in my face.

“I don’t care what he did. Tomorrow, after class, you will come onto base, and you will give him a sincere apology.” My jaw dropped. “So, he gets to take my glasses, preventing me from studying and I have to apologize to him?” He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “You will, and you will do it with a smile.” I sighed. “God! Just stop the huffing and puffing! You did this to yourself! Now go upstairs and study. If you fail another test, you don’t get to come back here and cry about it. You’ll have nowhere to go.” My mother threatened, making a shiver run up my spine, knowing she was serious. I just nodded, standing and looking to my father. “Dismissed.” I bit my lip, rushing upstairs. I shut my bedroom door, tears streaming down my cheeks. I covered my mouth as I slid down the door, silencing my sobs. Why can’t I just control my emotions? I should’ve just let him keep my glasses and stayed in my chair. I took a shaky breath, wiping my cheeks clean. I stood, kicking off my heels and walking over to my fish tank. “Hey guys.” I watched as the colorful fish swam around, a few swimming up to my face as I rested my chin on the shelf the tank rested on. “You hungry?” I asked as I grabbed the container of fish food. They all rushed to the side of the tank I kept the food on, watching intensely as I sprinkled it into the tank. All five fish ate as if they were starving when in reality, I fed them this morning. I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, knowing they were my fathers, I dove for my bag. Quickly pulling out my textbooks and rushing into my desk chair just as the door opened. “I don’t want to see you out of this room till dinner. You understand me?” I nodded as I opened my book. “Yes, sir.”

The next day I was dreading everything, including waking up. But I did, getting myself ready in an olive-green dress that was knee length with a ruffled hem and nude heels. I struggled to focus in class, not sure how I would manage to survive the ridiculous apology. I couldn’t focus, taking half-assed notes as I thought of how humiliating this was going to be. I barely managed to walk out of the building and get into my car. I could just drive off, maybe somewhere upstate, or even into Mexico. But they would just report my car stolen and I’d be right back here, more miserable than ever. I don’t remember the drive to base, or showing the guard my ID. But soon I found myself walking into my dad’s office, keeping my head down as I stood in front of his desk. “About time. You got out of class twenty minutes ago.” I pulled on my thumbs, wanting to snap that it takes me twenty-five minutes to get here from school, but I just kept my mouth shut. “Set your bag down.” I set my bag in the chair as he stood from his own. “Follow me.” I followed him out of his office and down the hall, keeping my head down as my heels clicked on the tile. He led us outside to the hangar, my heels announcing our arrival. I managed to lift my head, looking at the ginormous jet across the way. “Captain Mitchell.” I looked up to see an older man turn from his team to look at us. “Commander Blair.” Everyone jumped up, standing at attention and saluting him as we walked closer. “As you were.” Movement caught my eye, and I glanced behind everyone to see Lieutenant Seresin and the other man with the mustache walking closer.

“Lieutenant Cooper. Step forward.” I pulled on my thumbs again, my knees growing weak from nerves. Coop stepped closer, keeping a poker face as he did as my dad asked. “Katy, I think you have something to say to Lieutenant Cooper.” I felt everyone’s eyes on me from behind Coop and I looked up to my dad who just quirked a brow as if to say, ‘Get on with it.’ I took a step forward, averting my eyes from everyone behind him down to my feet. “Coop, I just wanted to say-“ “Eyes on me when you’re talking to me sweetheart.” My head snapped up, glaring at him. “Wasn’t there something you had to say to me?” He was trying to get a rise out of me again, and I wasn’t going to fall for it this time. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was wrong of me to hit you.” I said through gritted teeth. Coop poked his bottom lip out, tilting his head at me. “I don’t think you mean it.” Tears of frustration gathered in my eyes as I fought back every emotion within me. I shook my head and took a big breath before I gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “The way I acted yesterday was wrong, and I never should’ve punched you. I really hope you can forgive me.” He grinned at me, relishing this moment. “Of course, I forgive you, sweetheart.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Good, now that that is out of the way. You can go back to training, and you need to go study.” My father’s hand slammed down on my shoulder, making me jump as he did so. “Yes, sir.”

With that I went back to my dad’s office, grabbing my bag and going into the rec room to study just like I did the day before. I sat there, staring at my textbooks but not reading them. What I wouldn’t give to go back and punch Coop in his smug ugly face. God, why did I ever think he was attractive? Thinking back on it he’s really not, and he has an ugly personality to match. God, I hate him, and I can’t stand my father for making me do that. Should I have hit him? No. But did he deserve it? Hell yes. “Do you need help?” I looked up, caught off guard by the quiet voice. A blonde man with stunning blue eyes and glasses stood before me. “Oh. No, I don’t. Don’t trouble yourself with me.” I said as I turned my head back down to my books. “I’m pretty good at law. I started in the Law education program at the naval academy before changing majors.” I narrowed my eyes at him, and he gave me a small smile. “What does Amicus Curiae mean?” I bit my lip, realizing I didn’t know the answer. “On the bench?” It was more of a question than an answer. “That’s En banc. It’s Latin for ‘friend of the court’.” I nodded slowly. “I’d be more than happy to help you study.” I stared at my textbook for a minute, going over my options. I could study on my own and risk failing, which means my parents would kick me out of the house. But if he helped me, maybe I can pass and live in the house another day.

“Okay. You can help me.” He smiled at me, slipping in the chair next to me. “Your name is Katy, right?” I nodded, realizing he was there when I had to give that stupid apology. “I’m Bob.” He held out his hand for me to shake, clasping my fingers around his, I realized just how big his hands are. I was worried I would struggle to study with Bob, but he made it so easy. He taught me a few ways to remember phrases, and it’s like a whole new world opened up in front of me. “Hey! Baby on Board! What are you doing?” Our heads snapped up at the sound of Coop's voice. He seemed angry, and Lieutenant Seresin behind him didn’t look happy either. I watched as his eyes shifted from Bob to me and I immediately hung my head. “Don’t waste your time with her. Come on.” He waved him over and Bob looked to me before back to Coop. “I think I’m gonna stay here and help her study.” My head snapped up to him in surprise and he flashed me a small smile. “She’s not fucking worth it. Now, come on.” Bob opened his mouth to retort, but Lieutenant Seresin cut him off. “Don’t fucking argue, Floyd.” I closed my text book, putting it in my back. “I’ll just leave.”

“I see you’ve finally got some brains. You can finally tell when people don’t want you around.” Coop snapped and I just stood with my bag, ignoring his words. “I have to say, I can’t stand to look at her face. But God do I love watching her walk away.” I heard their laughter behind me. I just kept my head down, hiding my tears as I made my way down the hallway. Once I was a ways down the hallway, I stopped, pulling my glasses off and wiping my eyes clean. “Hey, you okay?” I turned, seeing a woman and the guy with the mustache walking up. I turned to them, leaning against the wall as I took a deep breath. “O-oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The girl smiled at me. “We just wanted to say, Coop was completely in the wrong.” She said and the guy behind her smiled. “Yeah, and it definitely wasn’t okay that Commander Blair made you apologize to him.” I offered them a small smile. “Thanks.” The girl held out her hand for me to shake. “Natasha, callsign Phoenix.” I shook the guys hand next. “Bradley, callsign Rooster.” I smiled, feeling a little better. Their smiles were infectious.

“I’m-“ “Katy Scarlett!” My fathers voice boomed down the hallway, making me stand rigid as I turned to face him. “You’re supposed to be studying.” I nodded, folding my hands in front of me. “Yes, sir. It was just getting noisy in the rec room, so I was coming to ask if I could go home and study there? I’ll probably focus better.” He stared at me for a moment before looking to Natasha and Bradley. “Was she bothering you?” My shoulders tensed as he laid a hand on them, turning me around to face them. I kept my eyes trained on my heels, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Not at all. I noticed her shoes in the hangar earlier and stopped her to ask them what brand they were. Valentino? Right?” Natasha asked as she leaned down to catch my eyes. I stared into hers, seeing something flash in them and I knew she was trying to keep me out of trouble. “Yes. They’re very comfortable.” My dad nodded, looking down at me. “Very well. Go home. I’ll be late so make sure you’re studying before dinner.” I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I said before turning and making my way out to my car. Once I was inside, I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I owe Natasha big time.” I mumbled to myself as I cranked my car.

I studied until dad came home, rushing downstairs to make sure I had the table set before he sat down. Once I did that he sat down, and mom placed his plate in front of him before we made our plates. “How was work, dear?” My mom asked, looking over at my dad. “Good. I have to be on base early in the morning. The team that Iceman put together ships out for their mission in the morning.” I listened intensely as they discussed his work. “They keep talking about how ‘someone may not make it back’. Cyclone isn’t worried about it, but Maverick is.” My mom scoffed. “Ugh. Maverick? He’s still flying? I figured he would’ve been discharged from the Navy, or more likely, dead.” My dad chuckled. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and he’ll go down on this mission.” My heart lurched into my throat at his words. How can someone have such disregard for human life? “Katy.” My head snapped up to catch my mother’s eye. “God, listen to me the first time I say your name. You need to eat more peas.” I took a deep breath. “I’m twenty-five mother. I eat every vegetable but peas.” She grabbed the spoon that sat in the bowl of peas and lifted it, slamming a huge scoop of them down on my plate. “Just fucking listen and eat them. I don’t need any remarks from you every time I say something.” I just did as she said, no energy to fight with her about it.

The texture and taste was gross, but I just have to pick my battles with her. When we were done, my parents went out onto the back deck for drinks, and I cleaned up the kitchen. I used to complain about it, but as I got older, I realized this was the only time I could guarantee they wouldn’t barge in and they would leave me alone. Once I was finished, I went back upstairs and into my room. I have spent most all of the day studying, so I opted to read a book from my shelf. I plucked Salem’s Lot from my shelf, plopping down on my bed to read it. I got 5 pages in when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. My heart pounded in my chest, knowing they were my fathers, but they didn’t sound like angry footsteps. I sat up quickly when my door opened, my eyes widening behind my metal frames as my father stared at me. “What are you reading?” I gulped, looking down at the book in my hand. “Salem’s Lot?” It should’ve been a statement, but I was scared of the look in his eye. “You have another exam tomorrow.” I nodded, standing from my bed. “Yes, but I’ve been studying non-stop for the past week. I-I thought maybe reading something different for an hour would help me relax.” I was flipping the book from hand to hand, struggling to sit still in the tension filled room. “Just put it down and study. I’m tired of having to ride your ass about school. Just fucking study and pass your fucking tests before you force your mother and I to kick you out.” He huffed and I nodded. “Yes sir.” I put the book back before sitting down at my desk, turning on my laptop. With that he closed the door and I sighed, leaning back in my chair. While I waited for my computer to boot up, I stood, walking over to my fish tank to feed them. I watched as Splish and Splash, my twin goldfish shoved each other around trying to eat. “Guys. There’s plenty.” I dropped just a little more in the tank, giggling as the all rushed around. “Do you guys think I’d make a good lawyer?” I asked as Frankie, my angel fish turned to me, almost staring for a second before swimming off. “Yeah, I don’t think so either.” I sighed before sitting back down in my desk chair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @wkndwlff @cherrycola27 @daisydaisygoose

#hangman #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin x oc #hangman fic #hangman seresin #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun imagine #hangman top gun #undiagnosed #ADHD OC #jake seresin x neurodivergent oc

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usernameforaboredcat · 7 months

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Head Over Heels (Law X TomBoyF!Reader)

(A little dabble I thought while taking a piss 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 like 3 minutes ago)

Warnings⚠: None

[Part 1/?]

Law meets Luffys older (by like a year) sister who honestly the type of girl he’d imagine being the big sister to the Straw Hat and BOY is she just fiiiiiiiine!

3 brothers!

Imagine growing up with 3 idiot brothers with only one of them being less stupid. Fist fights, rolling around in mud and dirt, covered in blood from hunting, needing a bath every night to not get sick. Haha God I love those idiots!

Law doesn’t know why he’s here, walking down a random street on a random island with the idiot Straw Hat Luffy. As the two walk, Luffy lets out a loud yell as he sees a familiar older girl walking down the street. “HEEEEEEY! (YYYYY/NNN)!”. He calls way too loudly, drawing the attention of everyone including the girl. She turns in confusion, the gasps as she looks over with wide eyes and a bright smile.

Luffy jolts off over to the girl, the Captain of the Heart Pirates groaning as he slowly walks to catch up. He sees her wearing baggy long pants and a bikini, saddles and a small pack bag through the belt parts of her pants. Luffy jumps and hugs her, who hugs him back. “No way! It’s so good to see you again little dude!”. She greets him. “I’ve missed you so much!”. Luffy cries. (Y/n) pulls off the younger kid, putting him in a headlock as she ruffles his hair with his knuckles.

“You little fuck! I thought your ass was dead you little shit! Scared me half to death! I swore I saw the light!”. She snaps at him angrily, tightening her hold as he starts to choke. “I-I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!”. Luffy breathes out, spazzing in her hold.

The Heart Pirate Captain finally catches up, looking at the two with a raised eyebrow. “The hell are you?”. (Y/n) asks the taller man, looking up at him. A thump goes through his whole body, strange. “Th-this is my friend!”. Luffy chokes out, now trying to pull her arm away. “No shit! Can’t believing you made a friend that isn’t some 30 year old guy!”. She says happily.

Law looks at his now turning blue friend, his cheeks reddening at the sign of his face so squished against her boob. “Hope this little turd hasn’t been too much of a pain in the ass”. She tells him, finally letting go of Luffy to let him fall to the ground. ‘Yes, he has been a giant pain in my fucking ass’. “No, not at all”. He responds. ‘Damn it!’.

She then hums, getting on her tippy toes and leans right up into his face. “Holy crap! You’re that Law guy! I heard about you! Your bounty is like crazy high at like 3,000,000,000 berries!”. She points out in shock. “Yeah! Isn’t he awesome!”. Luffy cheers, now back on his feet. “It is quite impressive, I must say”. She hums, holding her chin with her hand as she nods.

“Uh…th-thanks”. He mutters, gripping the brim of his hat to lower it to hide his slowly growing blush. ‘What’s with this woman? Why am I like this? Damn it!’. “So, whatchu up to these days?”. Luffy asks his older sister, the two turning to each other. “Oh ya know, just traveling around looking for anything to do! Probably doing the least to piss off the old man out of us kids”. She answers, leaning with her hand on her hip.

“How bout you? I’ve seen that your bounty has only been goin up so ya still trying to be King of the Pirates?”. She asks. “Yep! And it’s only gonna go up and I’m gonna be king!”. He responds happily. She chuckles at her little brother. “I believe it! Remember I’ve been your number one supporter since day one”. She reminds him, nudging his arms with her elbow.

She then turns back to the other captain, feeling an arrow go through his heart when her eyes meet his. “Mind if I hang with you guys for a while? Just for a bit, I wanna catch up with my baby brother”. She asks him oh so kindly. Law felt as if his heart stopped, chocking and spitting out his own spit. Luffy laughs at his reaction while his sister just stares.

She reaches into her bag and pulls out a handkerchief, holding it out to him. “Do you…need this?”. She asks nervously, never really seeing a guy act like this before in her life. “Uh…”. He takes the handkerchief from her, feeling the soft fabric on his fingers. “Thanks”. He thanks, raising it to clean his face. “Oh man! You should have seen your face!”. Luffy laughs at his older friend.

He holds the handkerchief back to her, her hand grazing his as she takes it back. Her finger tips are as soft as silk, her fingers smoothly sliding off his. Laws nose suddenly bursts, blood gushing out his nose like a hose. “Holy crap!”. The girl yelps, jumping back while Luffy bursts out laughing again. “Hahaha! Now you’re like Sanji!”. He laughs, holding his stomach from all his laughing.

(Y/n) looks at her brother with a concerned expression. “Is he uh…usually like this?”. She asks him. “Hehehe, nope!”. He simply answers. All Law can do it turn away from the two, his face a dark beet red. Never in his life has he been this embarrassed just because of some girl. (Y/n) leans over so she can whisper in Luffys ear. “Should I leave and we catch up a different time?”. She whisper asks him, causing the younger boy to turn and look at her.

“No no it’s fiiiine! Just give him a minute”. He reassures her. She hums as she leans away from her baby brother, then just to lean back over. “He said he acts like a friend of yours, what’s he like?”. She asks him. “Oh you mean Sanji? He usually acts like that around girls, he really likes girls”. Luffy answer. Oh…OH!!! Oh~. “Oh I see~”. She coos, leaning away from her little brother again.

“Huh? Get what?”. Luffy questions. (Y/n) then grabs Laws hand, gaining his attention and causing him to freeze in place. “So Law, are you here for long? Perhaps we can meet up and you can tell me some stories of dumb shit my baby brother has done?”. She asks him, sending him a little wink. His nose starts to bleed again, but he’s able to muster out a nod. “Cool! Now why don’t we go somewhere nice and chat!?”. She says happily, linking arms with her brother and dragging the two down the street.

Trafalgar Law, Died Age 26

Death By Blood Loss & Heart Attack Caused By Luffys Hot Older Sister

#one piece law x you #one piece x reader #one piece law #one piece law x yn #one piece trafalgar law #one piece trafalgar law x reader #one piece trafalgar law x yn #one piece trafalgar law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x yn #trafalgar law x you

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kimpossibly · 1 year

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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART THREE: the six

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: swearing, drinking, drugs, minor injuries, blood, very suggestive content, implied sex (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I fear I may have screwed up the timeline, but oh well! Hope you enjoy!

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a life threatening illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

SEVENEIGHTNINE (1975-1976)

The recording of their first album tested The Six's strength ― not only as a band, but as friends. And Y/n, who had never really been a part of the band during its songwriting process, was quick to realize that there was friction between the same band members again and again. Most notably, Billy and Eddie.

KAREN: Eddie wanted more freedom with what he was playing, Billy thought that since he was the frontman that his word was law...it's the same old story you've heard before. They were in a constant dick measuring contest and neither one of them wanted to admit defeat.

WARREN: Billy was my friend. Eddie was my friend. But when you put them in a room together and told them to make a song, they were the most annoying motherfuckers you'd ever met.

One day after a particularly harrowing songwriting session, the band found themselves back at the house in Laurel Canyon. The place that was usually filled with talk and music was silent, the telltale sign that they had brought work home with them. but what else were they supposed to do? They worked together, they lived together. The lines between work and home were becoming dangerously thin.

Y/n couldn't stand the silence. At her house, there had always been something going on ― her mom would be talking on the phone, someone would come in injured and she'd fix them up. At the very least, she'd keep the television on so she could get a good nights' sleep. But that night it was dead silent. Sickeningly so.

So Y/n got out of bed and wandered into Eddie's room. She didn't acknowledge his presence as she walked in, stopped in place suddenly, and collapsed onto the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

Eddie watched the whole thing from his bed, his guitar in his hands. He expected that maybe she'd say something, start a conversation and whatnot, but she didn't. She just went on, staring at the ceiling as though she had all the time in the world and a perfect reason to be there on the floor.

So he spoke first. "Hi."

"Why can't you just get over things?"

EDDIE: Out of the blue, no hesitation. "Why can't you just get over things?" I knew what she was talking about. Me and Billy had been at each others' throats for weeks, ever since we started writing the damn album. She wanted to know why I couldn't just pack it all in and take the hits as they came.

"Um―"

"Because here's the thing: you guys both have so much pride. Soooooo much. So much it makes me want to slap you guys across the face and remind you that you're human, not gods. And, look, I get it. He walks all over you sometimes and that's not cool. But sometimes it feels like you're pushing back just to be contrarian. Like you don't really disagree with what he's saying, you just disagree with the fact that he's the one saying it. You get my drift?"

EDDIE: Like I said, she doesn't sugarcoat things. She'll tell you what you are and if you don't like it? Tough.

Eddie paused, leaning back. She was right; he knew that much. And maybe he did argue with things just to argue, but so what? They weren't The Dunne Brothers anymore, they were The Six. Implied equal partnership. And still...

"He's thinks it's his band, Y/n."

"Then talk to him about it."

"I can't."

"Why not?" Y/n sat up, a crease formed between her brows.

He wasn't quite expecting that question. But, after a bit of stumbling, he came to what he thought was a reasonable answer: "Because he doesn't listen."

Y/n just looked at him like that was the dumbest thing he had ever said. "Well then make him listen."

"Yeah, alright. and how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

She didn't answer immediately, thinking. Eddie thought for a moment that he might have won.

EDDIE: There wasn't really a way to win an argument with her. Not really.

After a moment she turned to him. "A war isn't just two guys screaming at each other, Ed. They need soldiers, armies. Let me be your army."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like watching you get pushed around. It's kind of...sad."

"Thanks."

"You asked."

They lapsed into silence again. Y/n laid back down on the floor, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. When she spoke again, it was so quiet, Eddie wasn't sure at first if she was talking to him or to herself. "I just...I'm on your side, okay? So don't make it any harder to be."

EDDIE: I never quite got that, you know? "I'm on your side." I had no idea why she'd be on my side. Billy was the frontman, Billy was the guy you looked up to. And there she was, trying to help me out without me even asking. I guess I thought, am I really that pathetic? [Laughs] I probably don't want to know the answer to that. I don't know why she was on my side, I really don't. But it was good to know. Made me feel like, aside from all the melodrama that came with rock n' roll, I had something to hold on to.

By the time SevenEightNine was done, the CEO of Runner Records, Rich Palentino, was not impressed. In fact, in his opinion, the entire collection of songs they had collectively poured their hearts and souls into, did not have a number one single among it. Teddy Price decided to take things into his own hands, and that's when Daisy Jones got involved.

The plan was to take 'Honeycomb' ― a song Billy had written about the life he had promised Camila ― and add a female vocal onto it, a sort of call and response duet.

Needless to say, Billy was not happy about the arrangement.

GRAHAM: He had just gotten back from rehab and was finally making things right with his wife and his daughter, and they wanted to bring a new chick in to "fix" his song. I can see why he was upset. I just think that he could've handled it better.

EDDIE: He threw a fit. So, naturally, everybody tried to do things to appease him. Graham had the idea that Karen could sing the female part.

KAREN: Like I said, I can back up a chorus, but I can't hold my own.

EDDIE: Y/n was thrown into the mix.

KAREN: Eddie put "Y/n" and "solo" in the same sentence and she looked like she was going to vomit. We moved on.

GRAHAM: Eventually Billy got the gist that Daisy was what we needed. At least, Teddy thought so. And Billy would take Teddy's word over his own any day of the week.

BILLY: I thought, "Fine. If this Daisy girl wants to try it, we'll let her try it."

Daisy was brought into the studio within the next couple of days, marking the first time she ever officially worked with The Six. She was generally well received by all its members (except maybe Billy) and found a fast friend in Y/n.

Firstly, they were the closest in age, and, when you're thrown into a new environment surrounded by strangers, that tends to be what you gravitate towards. That, and Y/n had the special ability of getting the boys to shut up long enough to let her do her thing. That was especially important.

DAISY: The first time I got into that studio to record, the rest of the band crowded at the window, staring at me like I was an elephant in a zoo. It was unsettling. I was probably on the verge of yelling to them to give me some room to breathe when I saw Y/n and Karen dragging them out by their collars, kicking them out of the room until they were the only ones left. That meant a lot.

Despite Billy's every attempt to complain, Honeycomb was released featuring Daisy Jones. Billy was stubbornly pessimistic about the whole thing, of course. And by the time the recording and mixing of 'Honeycomb' was done, it was completely different from the song Billy had first pitched. He felt that his vision had been trod upon in a most disrespectful manner, so much so that, when it was first played, start to finish, for the entire band, the walked out the second the record stopped.

They all watched him go with confusion ― the song was good. It was great, even, but Billy hated it so much that he couldn't even stand to be in the same room as it. And this was before Camila started coming to recording sessions, so no one really wanted to follow him out. Especially not Eddie.

So after the door slammed, they all spent a tense few seconds looking around, sharing confused and annoyed looks over Billy's outburst, and when it became clear that no one was going to do a damn thing about it, Y/n sighed and got up. "Looks like I have to do everything around here, huh?"

She found Billy outside, leaning on the hood of his car, staring at the slowly heating pavement in the California sun. He had his hands crossed over his chest, not unlike a kid who had just gotten his toy taken from him. He didn't look up when Y/n stepped outside, but he spoke the moment she was within earshot: "We're not releasing it."

The reply that came back was a sharp, loud laugh from Y/n. "Fuck you, we're not releasing it. It's a good song. Probably the best one we've ever made."

"You don't get it," Billy shook his head, "that's my song that she's singing. Mine. The one that I wrote about my wife."

"It's not about your wife, Billy," Y/n said. "It's an apology to your wife. You asked us all to make it and we said yes, so don't go acting like you're the goddamn puppet master pulling all the strings. You asked us to make the song, and we said yes. And it's our band. Your song, our band. Sometimes we have to make decisions that don't please your every fucking whim because it's our band and we want to take it as far as we can. And this song, Billy? This is how we do that."

He said nothing, continuing to stare at the ground.

"We're releasing it as soon as we can, and the world is gonna lose its fucking mind. At least you can go home and tell your wife that everyone loves her song."

Billy looked up then, some of his scowl melted away. Y/n grabbed him by the wrist, uncrossing his arms and pulling him back towards the studio. "Now the least you can do is go be civil to your bandmates and to the girl who just made us a number one single."

Eventually she succeeded in dragging him back into the recording booth, to the surprise of everyone already there.

"He threw a fit; I told him to shut up and get over himself. So, when can we release it?" Y/n asked, looking to Teddy.

BILLY: Just like that, she told me to get my act together and got me back in that studio. It was a little harsher than it had to be, but it worked. She had perfected the art of making someone realize how much of an asshole they were being at that point. I think she used it most on me. Occasionally Warren. If it weren't for her, I don't know if I would've gotten back in that studio. Because I don't know if anyone else would've walked out to get me.

Just as Y/n had predicted, 'Honeycomb' quickly sailed to the top of the charts. It generated national attention, with the whole world seeming to suddenly ask the question, Who the hell is The Six?

Daisy Jones had singlehandedly brought them to the top, and it pissed Billy Dunne off to no end.

The rest of the band, however, was enjoying their newfound celebrity. Their album, SevenEightNine, came out soon after, putting them on the road for their first tour ever. Daisy was set to be their opening act ― which, again, did not exactly please Billy. But she was a magnet. Where Daisy went, people seemed to follow.

As the days counted down before they left, they did what they knew best: partying. Y/n, in particular, found herself spending increasingly more and more time with Daisy.

DAISY: Not everyone was on board with me having a hand in the band's success, I knew that. But I had a place at the Marmont that had a pool. And back then, that was all it took to be okay in Y/n's book.

―

[The following is a transcription from an interview with Rolling Stone. On June 2, 1975, Jonah Berg sat down with Y/n L/n to discuss the band's recent success and life on the road.]

JONAH: Where do you think you'd be right now? If you weren't in a band, I mean?

Y/N: [Pauses. Smiles] Somewhere in the ocean.

JONAH: No thoughts as to a career?

Y/N: You didn't ask about a career. You asked what I'd be doing right now. And that's it ― I'd be in the ocean. And I'd be in whatever career got me there.

[This marks the end of the transcript.]

―

WARREN: The girl is a fucking fish.

DAISY: She'd go under for as long as she could, come up for a single breath, and go back under again. Over and over and over. You can't get a single word in that girl's ears when she's in the water.

KAREN: Y/n had a habit of getting...obsessed. With people, with music, whatever it was that caught her interest and held it. And Daisy...[pauses] Daisy did that.

EDDIE: I'm not so sure it was a great thing that Daisy and Y/n became friends when they did.

In Laurel Canyon, Y/n was often the first to come home. In fact, whenever another band member stumbled in, they could most likely count on the fact that if they shouted, "Y/n, I'm home!" they'd hear her yell "Good. Go to sleep!" in response. But that night, it was not the case.

After all the band members had returned for the night, Y/n was still at the Marmont with Daisy. Her hair and clothes were still drying from when she had jumped in the pool an hour previous ― well, she either jumped or she was pushed. She couldn't quite remember now.

Dozens of people had crowded around the pool, drinking and doing whatever drugs came their way. More than once, Daisy and Y/n would stop their stroll to knock back some pills passed their way or do a line off a pool table. Y/n started to wonder what time she had to get home when she noticed Oh, the sun is coming up. Has the sun always been that purple?

"Daisy, what time is it?" she asked, looking to her left. But Daisy had disappeared. There was a splash, and suddenly Daisy was floating in the pool with her nicest Caftan dress billowing around her. She looked like some kind of mystical sea nymph, or so Y/n thought.

"DJ!" Y/n yelled at her, catching her attention. "I need to go home."

Daisy, of course, wouldn't hear of it. Parties didn't end until she thought they were over. "No, no come on! Just stay a little longer!"

"I can't, I...we have rehearsal in the morning."

Daisy sighed, splashing somewhat disappointedly. "Mkay. Fine," she sighed, swimming over to the edge, "can you at least help me out?"

She held a hand out, which Y/n took. Stupid decision, of course. Daisy just pulled her into the pool, causing an eruption of cheers around them.

As she hit the water, Y/n briefly thought that she had some reason to be upset with Daisy, but she couldn't quite remember why. Within a moment, all discomfort had disappeared, completely forgotten, and she was perfectly ready to stay as long as Daisy wanted.

That was, until she came up for air and saw Billy standing there at the edge of the pool.

For a moment, Y/n just stared up at him blankly. Then, she splashed water on him. He looked at her in confusion and she explained, "I had to make sure you were really there and I wasn't just making you up."

"Y/n, it's time to go." he said.

"Oooookay," she said slowly. "I'll get a taxi in a little bit."

"No, this isn't some kind of courtesy call. It's time to go now."

Y/n huffed in response, swimming over to the side. She was too tired (or doped up) to argue. Really, Billy's presence reminded her that she had a house with her own bed. And she realized right then how much she really, really wanted to be in bed.

"Who told you I was here?" she said as she attempted to hoist herself out of the pool.

"Eddie did," Billy replied, helping her out. "Something about you not knocking."

"That son of a bitch," she muttered. "Where is he?"

"Back at the house. Asleep."

"I want Eddie. Get him here."

"You'll see him in the morning."

Y/n, not satisfied with that answer, pushed Billy away, anger curling her hands into fists. "I don't need you to tell me what to do, Billy. I'm a fucking adult. I know when I've reach my limits."

Billy looked at her. Mascara and eyeliner had traced gray lines down her face. Her hair and clothes were soaking wet, clinging to her, dripping onto the pavement. For a second, the hardened look on her face reminded Billy of the day she wandered into their garage and stole the drum sticks straight from Chuck's hands. She didn't look much older now than she did then.

"Just get in the goddamn car."

"No."

"Get in the car."

"No!"

"Y/n, you're bleeding."

She looked down suddenly and noticed a deep cut on her right hand. She frowned at it, but didn't seem that surprised at its existence. "That was there when I got here."

Billy more or less forced her into the passenger seat of the car, where she hung her hand out of the window, letting the blood drip onto the pavement rather than onto the seats.

In the less than ten minute drive home, Y/n talked until she was laughing hysterically at her own jokes, stuck her head out the window and howled at the moon, and finally sat in silence long enough that she started to cry.

Eddie woke up that night to a book hitting him in the face. He jolted awake, looking around wildly. And then, in the dead silence of his room, Y/n's voice came from the doorway. "Snitch."

She shut the door after that, and he heard her stumbling footfalls down the hallway.

And while that should've been the last time Y/n partied with Daisy, it wasn't. She went the next night, and the night after that. The knocks on Eddie's wall became less and less frequent until they stopped all together.

Daisy became her favorite pastime.

"You're in love with Eddie, right?" Daisy asked. They were both lying on the ground outside at the Marmont, letting their heads hang over the pool so that only their hair soaked in the water.

At her question, Y/n shot up, her wet hair drenching her back with cold water instantly. "What?"

"Oh, sorry," Daisy said, still hanging there. "I just thought...you know..."

Y/n did not, in fact, know. She turned to Daisy, a crease formed between her brows. "Why would you think that?"

Daisy sat up then, her impossibly long hair acting like a weight that she had to struggle against to sit up. "You're always lookin' at him when you're rehearsing. At a certain point it was like...I could count on the fact that when I walked into the studio, you'd be right next to him."

As Daisy spoke, Y/n felt herself frowning deeper and deeper. Eddie...Eddie was her best friend. That was for sure. He was the one she went to when she wanted to talk to someone.

Three thoughts emerged as Daisy talked.

One: I am not in love with Eddie Roundtree.

Two: I'm in love with Eddie Roundtee.

Three: It's so obvious it's sad.

Daisy kept talking, oblivious to her sudden revelation. "I get it, you know? If you really like him, you should just go for it. He's a nice guy, and he looks at you as much as you look at him."

Y/n excused herself then, claiming she felt sick. Well, that was mostly true ― she did feel sick. But not the type of sick that drinking generally made her. The kind of sick that came from thinking too hard, too quickly.

But instead of coming back, she left the Marmont, walking home with bare feet. She was still dripping with pool water, freezing her ass off the whole way home, but she was too deep in her own head to really realize it.

She made it back just as the sun was starting to come up, falling asleep on the couch rather than in her room. She slept fitfully, waking up every half hour or so thinking she had said something in her sleep that she couldn't take back.

The next night, she didn't go back to Daisy's. In fact, when Eddie heard Y/n's bedroom door shut before midnight, he frowned, wondering momentarily if she had just imagined it. Then, to test the theory, he knocked. It was the tune to the newest song by the Kinks. He didn't think too long about the song, really, he just wanted a response.

For a moment, none came. He waited patiently, silently, for any response. There was none.

Sighing, he settled back down on his bed, deciding that that was the last time he'd knock. There was no point in knocking to no response.

But a few moments later, the response came ― this time at his bedroom door.

He paused, sitting up, part of him wondering if he'd completely imagined it. Either way, he had to check. He got up, leaving his bass on the bed, heading to the door. He opened it and Y/n stood in the doorway, hair still wet from a shower.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi."

And then, before he had the chance to say anything else, she stood on her toes and kissed him. He was so taken by surprise that he practically froze as he kissed her back, only to be unfrozen by her pushing him further into the room and kicking the door shut behind them.

EDDIE: [Pauses. Takes a deep breath] Oh, wow. Um. Yeah, sure. Yes. I did…I did love Camila. But, everyone loved Camila, you know? Maybe it was…at one point I thought maybe…[pauses] it’s not important. The love I had for Camila…it was painful. It was so much stuff that had nowhere to go, so it just sat. Weighed me down. And Y/n was the first person who, I don’t know, made it lighter.

The next morning when Y/n woke up, she was clearheaded for what felt like the first time in years. The sunlight didn't make her head pound, she didn't feel nauseated, and she didn't have to check herself to see if she'd acquired any news injuries from the night before.

When she rolled over, Eddie was there, still asleep. Her lips parted slightly at the sudden reminder that the previous night hadn't been a dream. And the reminder of Eddie's presence next to her reminded her that there were, in fact, several other people in the house.

She sat up and saw Eddie's shirt at the edge of the bed. She reached for it, leaning over and tapping Eddie on the shoulder. "Hey," she said. He stirred a bit. She held up the shirt. "Can I borrow this?"

"'Course." he responded sleepily. "You leaving?"

"Oh, don't worry. I won't be far. Just down the hall" she said with a smile. He laughed slightly at that, and she gave him a quick kiss on the side of his lips. She tried to get up then, but Eddie caught her wrist, pulling her back down to him. He wrapped an arm around her, pressing his lips to hers. She found herself smiling as he kissed her, a chill running down her spine.

Eventually he let her go and she slipped his shirt over her head. She went for the door, pausing before opening it. "We're going to talk about this later, by the way."

Eddie frowned. "What's there to talk about?"

She paused, thinking. "Maybe talk is the wrong word for it."

She gave him a sly smile, causing him to roll his eyes and bury his head in his pillow. She laughed quietly, opening the door as quietly as she could and shutting it behind her. And as she went to walk into the hallways, she saw Warren standing there, a beer can in one hand.

WARREN: She looked at me with this doe in headlights look, and I just knew she was going to ask, so I told her before she had the chance.

"We have thin walls."

WARREN: Man, the look on her face right then. [Laughs] Priceless. I was so drunk the night before, I didn’t hear shit, but one look at her—the messy hair, the smudged makeup—you just knew. I was happy for ‘em. For once it felt like I wasn’t waiting for the shoe to drop, you know? It just…dropped. I was happy for them.

Y/n said nothing to him, simply turning and walking away, causing Warren to chuckle to himself.

Billy and Camila moved out of the house in Laurel Canyon soon thereafter, wanting to have a home to call their own. That left the more, well, irresponsible band members to themselves.

One day, Warren returned to the house to find Graham, Karen, Eddie, and Y/n on the back porch, slumped in chairs, staring at the air in front of them like they were waiting for something.

"What are you guys on and can I have some?"

WARREN: It was mescaline, because of course it was.

"How long does it take to kick in?" Warren asked.

Karen shrugged. "Depends on the person."

A few seconds later, Warren suddenly stood up, stumbling slightly. "Whoa..."

Y/n giggled, then frowned. She moved her head back and forth, side to side, like she was weighing it. "Guys, my head is getting really heavy. Too heavy. How much should my brain weigh? Can brains gain weight? Do I have an overweight brain and I didn't notice it until now?"

"If you had an overweight brain, you wouldn't have failed math." Warren said. "Now, I-I feel on a molecular level, you know, like me and the canyon, we are..." he trailed off, then clapped, "Ha! No, we're the same, man."

Karen laughed. "Warren and Y/n are feeling it, clearly."

Graham laughed, and then suddenly he went slack, eyes wide. "Oh shit..." he put his hand over his stomach, "I can't feel my heart."

As Karen went to make sure his heart was actually beating (which, of course, it was ― he was just looking in the wrong place for it), Y/n turned her attention to Eddie. He was staring at his hands like it was the first time he was seeing them. She looked at her own, waving them in the air like she was trying not to hurt the air.

Y/n and Eddie had kept their, well, for lack of a better word, tryst, from the rest of the band members. Except, of course, Warren who had found out completely by mistake. As Y/n inspected her hands, she let one fall to the side, landing on Eddie's thigh.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. She bit her lip to hide a smile.

"No, Graham, it's there."

"Karen, I can't feel my heart. It's gone, man."

Y/n slid her hand further up his thigh, trying her best not to giggle at the way he tried to keep his cool under her touch.

"Can-Can we call a doctor or something?"

"Graham. Move your hand up."

Graham frowned, looking down. Then moved his hands to the correct place and, upon feeling his heart beating steadily underneath his palms, sighed in relief. "Oh. Thanks."

Eddie suddenly stood up, startling all of them. Without a word, he took Y/n by the hand, pulling her back inside. Y/n giggled then, already going to unbutton her shirt.

Karen and Graham watched them go in confusion. "What the hell is up with them?" Graham asked as the door shut behind them.

Warren just raised his half empty beer can in their direction. "L'Chaim," the declared, then drank it all in one sip.

Thanks to Honeycomb, The Six had been put on the map. They were touring for their first album with Daisy Jones as their opening act. It was on that tour that they all got their first taste of real fame of screaming crowds and fanatic fans.

Towards the end of the tour, the decision was made that Daisy would join the band, and they would soon become known as Daisy Jones & The Six. After the tour, they were on their way to creating their first album with Daisy on the team.

EDDIE: Things were perfect. Well, I didn’t think they were perfect at the time. I still wasn’t getting along with Billy, I didn’t feel like I had any creative control, I basically felt like a second-class citizen even though I had been there from the beginning. But I had Y/n, and the band was successful. If I had been able to put down my pride and look at my life from a couple steps back, I probably would have thought, damn…this ain’t bad. I never really guessed how bad things would go downhill after that.

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#eddie roundtree x reader #daisy jones and the six #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #eddie loving #eddie roundtree #billy dunne #graham dunne #karen sirko #camila dunne #warren rhodes #warren rojas

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peterman-spideyparker · 2 months

Text

my tears ricochet (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader) 5/5

Author’s Note: Hi! I've put these two through enough. It's still sad, but the ending makes up for it, I hope! Enjoy!

Summary: Out of the hospital and on the mend, you finally make your way to Clinton Church to try and make sense of the grief for the man you loved who has been out of your life for ten years.

Warnings: Angst, grief, PTSD, unresolved feelings, canon-typical violence, wound recovery (reference to pain from wound/surgery, reader is using a cane in recovery), recounting of the end of The Defenders/Season 3 DD, emotional damage, absent parents/friends, mentions of death, fear of loss, reconnection, fluff, hopeful ending

Other Characters: Father Lantom, Sister Maggie

Word Count: 3,162

You hum in pain as you sit down in the pew, the short walk taking a lot out of you. It smells like incense and old wood, and you can hear everything both in and out of the church from where you sit, the echos loud and all-consuming. You wonder if this is what Matt felt like all the time—hearing sounds reverberate and echo like church bells in the mountains, never finding a moment of quiet or solitude, condemned to listen to everything all the time. Never knowing peace.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you breathe into the empty church after a few minutes. “I hoped you’d give me a nudge in the right direction if I came here. I know what this place meant to you. I . . . I’d like a sign.” You look up to the ceiling, looking at the images staring unblinking down on you before closing your eyes and hanging you head. Why are you even trying? What does it even matter? Matt’s gone—he was long gone a decade ago.

“New to the city?” a new, older voice says. You look over, seeing a man in all black approach you down the aisle. “Or in need of some guidance?”

“I needed somewhere quiet,” you admit with a sigh as the elderly priest sits down next to you. “I needed a way to try and find peace. The last few months . . . they have been too much to bear.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. If it helps, I’m a friendly ear that’s willing to listen. At least you’ll be able to get it off your chest. Sometimes, that’s half of the battle, just letting it out,” the priest says. Father Lantom. You remember him from when you came with Matt to a service one Christmas and a few other times.

You dip your head and let out a sigh. “About a year ago, my husband passed away. It was . . . fast. Unexpected. He didn’t suffer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“The worst part was, I didn’t feel sad like someone should when their spouse passes away. I was sad, but . . .” You let out a long sigh and tilt your head back. “He was good to me. Kind. He cared. But it wasn’t love, at least not the kind of love that should lead two people to get married. But I got through it. And then a few months ago—.” You wipe away your tears and sniffle. “This was his church. I went with him a few times when we were in college together.”

“Who? Your husband?”

“No, an old friend.”

“I’ve been here for a long time. I’m pretty good with names and faces. I think it’s because I’ve got a connection upstairs.”

You give a small smile at his joke. “His name was Matt. Matt Murdock.” You wipe away a tear. “I was in an accident, and I was in the hospital when he died.”

The priest lets out a long, low sigh. “Do you mind me asking how he passed?”

“That building that went down, Midland Circle? I guess he was around it, got crushed under the debris. Matt and I, um . . . We lost touch for about ten years, and then by chance he came back shortly before my accident and before he . . .” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. It doesn’t sound right saying that he’s dead—it coats your mouth with a bitter taste. But why? You shouldn’t feel like this. He left, he completely cut you out. You tried to get in touch, but he still walked out of your life like everyone else. But yet you still have this feeling. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again, when he ghosted me in law school. I guess that some part of me always held out hope that he’d come back. At some point, I made peace with it—that our lives took us down separate roads, that it was probably the best for the both of us. But seeing him a few months ago dredged up feelings and reminded me of how happy I was with him, having him in my life, and how unhappy I am right now. How unhappy I’ve been for a long time. And now he’s not even around to help me sort through all these feelings—he’s the reason they’re all swirling around now, it’s only fair he help settle them. And he had the gall to die.”

You don’t realize that you’re crying with your voice raised and body shaking until the old priest hands you a bag of to-go Kleenex. You open them, wiping away your tears, desperately trying to collect yourself. You’re not supposed to behave this way, your parents taught you better, but you just can’t help it; you’ve never been able to act rationally or control your emotions how you were taught to when it came to Matt. And that’s how you know you really, truly loved him.

“I don’t know where to go from here,” you croak. “I’ve already lost my husband. And now I’ve lost the first man I’ve ever loved. None of it makes sense. None of it feels right. There wasn’t even a funeral. A-A-And now I’m here feeling hurt and abandoned by the only person who I felt saw me for who I was, not who he wanted, begging for there to be a way to bring him back. To take me instead. For me to feel something . . . because now I feel like the same lost girl finishing law school.”

“Grief and loss . . .” Father Lantom lets out a sigh. “There’s no easy way to go about it. Saying that everything happens for a reason or that it’s all part of God’s plan doesn’t always help, either. Sometimes, things just happen. And it really sucks sometimes. But every time we go through it, we become stronger. That doesn’t mean we can’t feel sad at everything that could have been, though. How things could have turned out differently if not for one thing.”

“Your connection with the Big Guy upstairs can’t give me insight when this hurt will stop, can it?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he sighs.

“I figured I’d at least try.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”

“(Y/N),” you say, extending your hand for him to shake.

“(Y/N), do you have a moment to spare? I think there’s something that you should see. It might help with this grief you’re feeling.”

“Oh, I—.”

“Please.”

The sincerity in his voice gets to you, and you give him a gentle nod. He helps you stand with your cane, holding onto you to keep you upright and steady as he can tell walking is still a rather tender movement. You both slowly make your way down the basement steps, the sound of your shoes echoing against the stone.

“Stay here for just a moment, please,” he whispers with a gently hand on your shoulder. “I need to confirm that what I want to show you is actually still here.”

“O-Okay,” you say, confused and concerned. How could something in this basement leave? It doesn’t exactly seem like a lively place; it’s cold, dark, and frankly, a little spooky. But from what you remember about Father Lantom, he only ever wants to help, so, whatever is down here must be worth it. Matt trusted him, put his faith in him. That’s enough for you.

“(Y/N)?” he calls after you softly as he come back to your side. “May I?”

He takes your hand and slowly leads you into the large, open room, light streaming in through small street level and stained-glass windows. There is nothing in the open space, and you turn to give the elderly priest a questioning look as he starts to move out of the basement.

“F-Father, I—,” you start, but he raises a gentle hand. You turn back to facing front and you’re startled when you see someone step out from the shadows. You take a half step back, afraid of what is emerging, but a voice in your head tells you to relax. Despite what popular culture has told you about spooky basements, you listen to the voice in your head. He wouldn’t have brought you down here if it wasn’t safe. Walking closer to what looks like a makeshift bedroom, you carefully look around to see what is moving. It’s probably just a rat— you don’t think churches are exempt from New York City rats. But the next movement you see is decidedly larger than a rat.

“Matt?” you say, barely audible. It can’t be him. Foggy said he died. Foggy wouldn’t have lied about that—the pain on his face was too real, too raw. A building—a full-on skyscraper—went down on him. But he’s here, right in front of you, real as ever. When Matt’s lifts his head, your heart nearly stops. It’s him. Beaten, bruised, and a scraped up, but it’s him. It’s Matty. “No . . . What?”

“(Y/N/N),” he breathes, groaning in pain as he stands and walks toward you. The silence is deafening as your heart races in your chest, and it just doesn’t feel real. “It’s so good to . . . Are you okay?”

“N-No,” you whimper, your voice trembling as you drop your cane. “I-I . . . You’re alive. I thought you weren’t. Nobody does. I . . . I don’t know what to think or do.”

His hand reaches for yours, his calloused fingers brushing against the palm of your hand, his thumbs running against your knuckles. You want to yank them away— you don’t want to give him the luxury of holding onto you, but you just can’t pull back. Not when he’s here, not when he’s alive. “I . . . I thought I was going to die. I don’t know how I didn’t. I should have. I deserve to be dead.”

“How could you say that?” you murmur.

“It’s how I feel. People would be better off that way. No one needs me. You don’t need me. You were better off without me, both in Columbia and a few months ago. I’m the one that brought you pain.”

“Matt, I do need you. No one understands what happened on the roof. They tell me it’s going to take time, it’ll get better, but it doesn’t. I keep having these nightmares. They’re all from that night. Sometimes it’s just me reliving the memory, other times, our roles were reversed—me standing on the other side of the roof, you kneeling on the ground with a sword to you . . . watching a blade cutting through your stomach, hearing you cry out in pain, holding you in my arms . . .” You sniffle and wipe away tears. “Why’d you disappear?” you whine. “Why’d you leave me?”

“I almost got you killed,” he breathes, his voice low and gravely with emotion. “I had to.”

“No, Matt. Why’d you leave me in law school?” His face is one that looks similar to a scared child, fragile and anxious. “We were so close. And then one day you were just gone. I know you were with her, but, why couldn’t you keep me in your life? A call, a note, something. Anything. Why’d you have to leave?”

“I . . . It just happened. A door opened to a life I never thought of, one where it all seemed easier. It was a chance to forget all the baggage, all the pain and trauma from my past. After everything, it sounded nice. And it was, for a while.”

“Matt . . .”

“She died that night on the roof,” he swallows. “I mean, I thought she did. But s-she actually is now, and . . . She was so involved in everything that happened months ago, and you almost died because they grabbed you just because they saw us talking. I felt like I was poison. I am poison.”

You hold back tears, running your fingers through his hair. “You were the air in my lungs at Columbia,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It was so much harder to breathe when you weren’t around.”

“But you survived.“

“I was unhappy.

“You survived.”

“Surviving isn’t the same as living.”

“You weren’t hurt. You didn’t have a sword sticking through you. You were safe far away from me.”

“I wasn’t me. I only ever felt like me when I was with you and Foggy. Without that in my life . . . I was a pawn in a game of the wealthy. Foggy, you . . . you only ever wanted me.”

“I did. But I’m not what you deserve. I’m damaged goods.”

“No you are not,” you say sternly. “Yes, you’ve been through things, but you are not damaged, Matty.”

He closes his eyes, letting out a long breath while tears roll down his cheeks. “You were the first and last person to call me Matty after my dad died. It always made me so happy to hear you say it.”

You're crying with him now, and you don’t care that it hurts your wound. “You were the first person to call me (Y/N/N)—you’re the only person to call me (Y/N/N). I mean, besides Foggy, but . . . It makes me feel like myself. Just me. No expectations to live up to, no labels attached.” You sniffle, swallowing hard to keep it all together. “My husband didn’t even call me (Y/N/N). It was always my full name or the abbreviated version my parents use for me, and I couldn’t stand it. The formality, the rules, the masks—it made me feel like I was a child again getting told what to do at a function, getting scolded for not behaving how an Upper East Side daughter should.”

Matt lets out a wet chuckle as he rests his forehead against yours. “Do you remember when that happened in Intro to Constitutional Law? I thought you were going to jump up from your desk and deck the professor when they called you that.”

You both laugh at the memory, holding onto one another closely, basking in a touch neither of you ever thought you’d get to have again.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you breathe. “I’m not strong enough.”

“I don’t want to lose you either. But I don’t think your parents will care for you hanging with good-doing hooligans from Hell’s Kitchen. And if it’s not them that’ll pull us apart, it’ll be something else.”

“I honestly don’t care what my parents think anymore, or what anyone in their sphere thinks of me. They already had me. I’d like it if you had me now. If I could stay. The life I dreamed about, the one that we talked about at school, that’s the life I know I can have with you. I want that, and I want you.”

“(Y/N/N).” He lets out a sigh as he swallows hard, the muscle feathering in his jaw. "I hear your scream every night. It’s terrifying. It haunts me—it kills me. It’s the only thing I can hear, it’s louder than anything in the city.”

You wipe a tear from your own cheek. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the look on your face when you held me in your arms. I’ll never forget it.”

“My life is dangerous. What I do—.”

“I��m not looking for easy, I’m just looking for you. I just want you, Matt. I didn’t know how badly I did until I saw you at that event. I want to be in your life again. Any way you’ll let me, I want to be there.”

“I’d like that,” he breathes. “I can’t tell you how much, angel.”

“Then let me in, please.”

Tears stream down his face as he does his best to control his breathing.

“I’m afraid,” he breaks.

You give his hands a firm, reassuring squeeze. “I am, too. But if we have each other, we don’t have to be. Or, at least we don’t have to be afraid alone.”

“There’s this man, (Y/N/N).” He pinches his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Until he’s taken care of, I can’t be close with anyone. If I am, they’ll be targets, they’ll get hurt. You’d get hurt, again, because of me. And I couldn’t live with that. I’d never forgive myself. Not that I forgave myself for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“It’s not always on you. You don’t have to shoulder any of this alone.”

“I can’t lose you again.”

“Matty . . .”

He lets out a sigh, resting his forehead on yours.

“It’s dangerous,” he repeats softly.

“I know.” He nuzzled his nose against yours, desperate for more of your touch. “But I promise that everything will be alright. I’m not going anywhere. Okay? We can start back slow, but I’m not leaving you alone. It’ll take a lot more than dying—real or fake—to shake me.”

He nods lightly. “I promise I will do absolutely everything I can to keep you safe, and I swear there won’t be a day that I let pass without letting you know how much I care about you. I-I know that I messed up. I know. Leaving you, that was the biggest mistake of my life. But—.”

“When are you gonna stop apologizing and just kiss me? I think we’ve both waited long enough.”

He just smiles, closing the space between you so your lips finally meet in a soft kiss. You hum happily, sliding your hands around his waist, accidentally irritating an injury under his shirt. You gasp and pull back, just enough to look at his face.

“Sorry,” you breathe.

“It’s okay,” he hums. “Occupational hazard.”

“Well, maybe I can help make it better.”

He smiles dreamily, giving you a gentle nod before leaning back in, only for the clearing of a throat to interrupt your embrace. Looking over, you see one of the nuns standing by the steps, and you're quick to create some space between yourself and Matt.

“Looks like things are starting to look up,” she hums. “I think that’s the first time he’s smiled since he got here. Can you get him to dress like he’s ready to rejoin the land of the living instead of skulking down here?”

“Well, I can only do so much,” you respond, blushing deeply, taking your hands off Matt’s torso. “Lead a horse to water, and all.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice—especially with this one. Stubborn as a mule.”

You turn back to Matt. “I’m glad you’re not dead, but don’t you dare disappear on me again.”

“I won’t. I promise. When all of this is over, the first place I’m going is into your arms. And this time, I’m not leaving.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, giving him a small smile. “You better.”

Matt leans in for one more kiss on your lips. “It’s a guarantee, sweetheart.”

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biscuitbox23 · 4 months

Text

Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

#rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #andrew lincoln #first fanfic #the walking dead universe #BiscuitWrites #twd oneshot

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axcel-lucci · 9 months

Text

Death will never keep us apart.

Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Note: established relationship, also... Slight... Angst?

"You can do it, (y/n)!" Bepo encouraged as he held her hand

It reassured her through deep pushes just to push their son out of her body.

"(Y/n)! One more, I promise this'll all be over soon!" Law said as he was the one aiding her.

"If fucking 47 hours in labour is 'soon', I'm fucked!" She yelled as she basically death gripped on Bepo's paw making the poor bear cry a little on the inside.

After all that, the baby was safely delivered.

She could could feel herself slowly getting weaker as she breathes I'm air.

"Hey..." Law called as he pulled of his gloves and his mask, "you did great..."

He kissed her forehead, "don't worry... They're taking care of the baby, cleaning him up and feeding him... Bepo, can you go and get the other bed ready?" Law said as he held her hand in which she weakly gripped unto.

The bear nodded and left, but not without taking a peak of the cute baby boy.

"Hey" he called, more sternly now, "are you alright?" He asked, worryingly as he checked her pulse.

Her pulse was gradually starting to get weaker, and weaker as she breathes heavily.

"(Y/n)..." He called, no response.

He called again, still no response until he felt the pulse suddenly disappear

"(Y/n)! No!" He yelled before holding unto her tight, "please...!"

...

"What... Where...?" (Y/n) muttered before looking around to a white void she found herself waking up at.

She remembers giving birth and...

"Am I..."

"Yes, you are dead." Someone with a smooth voice said behind her as she turned around to see an angel smiling down softly at her

"What... No. No! I can't!"

...

"(Y/n)! Please, please, please wake up!" Law begged as he did all procedures he can think of just to have her heart beat right back.

The crew held on to the now sleeping baby in their arms, afraid that if they handed him the baby... He'd lose himself.

....

"What do you mean? Your life has come to an end, is it not?" The angel smiles with its voice, "is it not enough rat you have successfully delivered a baby boy, changed his father's life for the better, and found a family...?"

"No. It's not enough. I grew up without a mother, I... Don't even know who my mother is... I don't want to come a time when... Even my own child doesn't know who I am. And Law... My husband... He... He lost so many... I promised him I'd stay by him until the end-"

"This is the end." The angel said, almost annoyingly, "your end, that is"

She frowned, "no. Bring me back. Now." She demanded, "my baby... My husband..." She grumbled, "I can't leave them. I don't want to leave them."

"But this is your fate, the fate that our creator has written for us..." The angel reasoned

"No. I do not accept this creator. I do not accept whatever fictional stories they're writing. I do NOT accept whatever they do. What, are we all just a doll to them??" She questioned

"That's not-"

"Shut. Up. We are not dolls, I am a mother and a wife. You are an angel. Not puppets and specially not dolls." She growled, "either you bring me back or you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming to the depths of hell"

"Angels don't go to hell..." The angel cried a bit before sighing deeply; "you know... When the creator said you'd be resisting... I didn't expect them to mean... This..."

"Well guess what, I won't be resisting if you bring me back. My husband is waiting for me, he cannot raise a child because he himself is an inner child... And it's my job to protect my children." She huffed

The angel just stared before sighing, "you seriously are a crazy woman... Most, if not all, the people that die come willingly... But you... You're different... I guess that's a mother's love... Huh?"

She just stomped her foot, "bring me back or I will seriously inflict irreversible damage to you and your piece of shit morals."

"Woah! No need to get so verbal...!" The angel gasped, "okay...! Okay...! I'll... I'll send you back..."

"That's what I thought."

"Gosh... The creator is so gonna scold me..."

...

"(Y/n), please...!" Law yelled as he kept giving her CPR

"Captain..." Shachi said, "I think it's.."

"No! She's not dead...! I know it!" He yelled before turnin to his crew, will visible hurt and anger in his eyes but tears kept spilling out, "get me a fucking blood bag instead! And make sure it's her blood type!"

"Y-yes sir...!" The crew nodded as Ikkaku held on to the sweet baby boy, unaware of what's happening around him.

He turned back to (y/n) only to slowly cup her cheeks with his hands, they were shivering... Trembling...

One would think a surgeon's hand would be steady and precise but...

His hands were shaking as he cupped her cheeks and desperately called out to her in almost a ragged whisper, "please... (Y/n)... Come back... I can't raise him alone... I can't raise our baby alone... I can't... I can't live without you... Please..." He begged while softly yet shakily kissing her in hopes that she wakes up, "... Please" his voice quivered.

He slowly starts to lose hope and accept her death, "please... Just... One more time... Please..." He cried.

The stoic and cold demeanour washed away by the fountains and rivers of his continuous tears.

Law kissed her lips, softly yet shakily before one of his hand hold hers in a tight grip, "please..." He muttered, "please wake up..."

A few moments later and he felt her hand twitch making him gasp and stand up straight, he could feel her hand grip his again as she tried her best to open her eyes only to close them back up from exhaustion.

One of his crew finally came back with a blood bag and law immediately hooked it to her, "(y/n)...!" He slowly smiled before she lifted a hand to his face.

Her hand missed when she tried to hold his face due to the haziness of her vision, "Law..."

"Rest up, my love..." He said before wiping away his tears, "and as soon as you wake up, you can see little Cora." He smiled before kissing her forehead

"Law... You bastard..." She laughed weakly, "I still don't appreciate the literal hours of my labour."

"I know... My love... I promise, I'll take good care of you and the baby forever. Just tell me what you need, I'll give them to you"

She smiled, "give me a kiss... Please?"

"Yes..." He smiled before kissing her.

...

She slowly woke up to the smell of isopropyl alcohol and anesthesia as it slowly wears off.

She ground before lifting a hand to rub her eyes open.

"Dear...! You're finally awake" he smiled brightly as he stood beside her bed and helped her sit up

"Ow... Ow..." She groaned, "is this fucking normal?" She frowned as he massaged her body

"Yes... It is."

"Dammit... I'm so not having another child." She huffed while crossing her arms

"Aww... But I want three children..." He pouts cutely making her huff

"Yeah yeah... Me too" she grumbled, "wait...! What happened to baby Cora?!"

"Shh... Here..." He smiled and motioned to a small hospital bed meant for babies beside him.

He slowly took the baby to his arms, supporting the places he knew needed to be supported and hands it over to her.

She gladly took the baby into her arms as he sleeps peacefully in a blanket Klione knitted for him.

"Oh... Law..." She smiled as she stared at the literal "copy, paste" of law and his child, "I'm upset how he looks so much like you and yet I'm the one who almost died"

"Come now..." He muttered and hugged her waist, "I'm sure he has your traits." He smiled before kissing her shoulder, "and... Thank you"

"For what?" She looked at him with a small smile

"For staying... I thought you were gonna die, too..." He mumbled

"Law..." She smiled before kissing his cheek, "fun fact, I grilled that angel right open as he tried dragging me off to the afterlife"

Law laughed softly, "so... Even death won't keep us apart, no?" He smiled.

"I guess it is..." She chuckled, "also... It hurts like literal hell, law... Can I have at least some pain meds??"

Law chuckled before nodding, "but you can take them later after eating..." He kissed her forehead, "I love you so much..."

"I love you more..." She smiled and kissed him.

He smiled before kissing back.

#random #night thoughts #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x y/n #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar d law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar law smut #one piece law #law x you #op law #op.law

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underground-secret · 3 months

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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: Sam, Dean, and Y/N investigate a haunting in an abandoned asylum rescuing two teenagers who ventured in, they become trapped with the spirits of those who had died in a riot decades ago, one of which was a doctor who causes extreme rage in his victims.

Warnings: Cannon violence, murder and mentions of suicide, arguing, banter, usage and mention of guns, ghosts, panicking/ anxiety, a little bit of angst

A/N: There will be a confusing part where your like who is she talking about and to that I say all in due time. Also i’m sorry it seems like i’m giving up on this (I didn’t realize I posted the last part a month ago) IM NOT i’m just super busy with school, if you’ve taken APUSH you get it—i’m fighting for my life.

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44, @bonkydarnes, @star-yawnznn

Word Count: 11,033

Asylum

(Master list, Previous Ch., Next Ch)

I let out a big sigh, slumping in my chair as I do so, my head falling onto my laptop's keyboard, “How is your dad moving from place to place so fast”, I grumble into the keys. “Literally how!” My head shoots up as I complain, looking at Dean who sat across from me with his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at his fathers journal.

His eyes meet mine even as his head faces the book, his stare tells me everything I need to know. He’s also very frustrated, certainly more than me and he too has no answers.

I contemplate slamming my head against my keyboard when Sam walks back into their hotel room. His phone clasped tightly in his hand after he just went outside to call several people. “Caleb hasn't heard from him?” Dean asks his approaching brother even though the answer is written on his disappointed face.

“Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Paster Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?” Sam shoots back, referencing people the Winchesters knew. I had heard of them too, most of them really good friends of the boys but I never actually met them.

Now it’s Dean's turn to answer and complain, “No, same as last time I looked. Nothing I can make out.... I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like frickin’ Yoda.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s.” Sam sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“But isn’t he like, you know…wanted?” I ask, considering being a Hunter comes with breaking a lot of laws, like a lot. “That and Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail” Dean adds.

Sam’s face contorts into anger, “I don't care anymore.” Suddenly a cell phone rings from across the room, Dean's phone to be exact who immediately goes over to his bag. Sam huffs something between a sigh and a frustrated grunt, “After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing.”

“I know!” Dean yells loudly, snapping, the sound echoing off the ill painted walls. He rummages through his duffel rougher, “Where the hell is my cellphone?”

“You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

“Don't say that!” He snaps again, “He's not dead! He's – he's…”

“He’s not dead, your father is good at what he does. I'm sure he’s just caught up in something.” I tried to reason, turning in my chair so I could face both boys.

“Like that’s a good excuse” Sam spits back.

“Hey, I never said it was! But it certainly is a better and more optimistic view than death!” I lecture, my face scrunching up in offense.

“Huh.” Dean mumbles quietly getting our attention, “I don't believe it.” His words stopped Sam from saying anything further to me. His focus turned back on his brother, “What?” He asks.

“It's, uh....It's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean answers and it’s clear who the message is from. I want to turn to Sam and say ‘Ha! told you so!’ but I hold back on the childish, but totally correct, notion. Before Sam can say anything snarky about the message Dean cuts him off, “Can I steal that?” He asks me to point to my open laptop. I nod my head quickly, “Go ahead.”

He walks back over to the table turning my laptop until it’s facing him and where he sat. “You think Dad was texting us?” Sam asks as his brother types away.

“He's given us coordinates before.” Dean answers.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean.”

“To be fair, a toaster and coordinates are pretty different. All you need is a paper map” I cut in, earning a hard glance from Sam. I could not explain why he suddenly had a problem with me other than the fact I disagreed with him, which in that case makes him just as childish as I wanted to be.

“Sam, it's good news! It means he's okay, or alive at least.” Dean adds, arguing.

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?” Sam pushes, still somehow convinced it isn’t his Dad which when I think about it is pretty harsh. Would he rather his dad was dead? Probably not.

Dean answers, “Nah, it said 'unknown'.”

“Well, where do the coordinates point?” Sam follows up.

“That's the interesting part. Rockford, Illinois.”

“Ok, a little random, but what’s specifically so interesting about Illinois?” I ask this time.

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He turns my laptop around with a news article zoomed in on a black and white photo of a cop, “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?” Sam asks, again I want to say something about him asking a dumb question but I hold back not wanting any more sass from him or anyone.

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal. Let’s see…” He scoots my laptop back, pulling open his Dads stuffed journal that sat on the table. “Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – till last week at least. I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam snorts, “This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job.”

Dean shrugs, “Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?”

“Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.” Sam snaps back.

“Does it matter? I mean we know it’s a hunt and we get to help people. I don’t see a loss in going.” I say, half shrugging.

“This doesn't strike either of you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?” Sam argues, his head snapping from his brother to me. It’s a good point to be honest but what else is there to do? Though I do not make that question vocal.

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.” Dean yells, final word. Sam makes a nasty bitchface and sighs, saying nothing more.

I lean against the cold exterior of the Impala, my arms crossed against my chest to fend off any bit of the cold night even with my layers on. I could go inside the car but standing outside, right at the front of the car, felt more productive while waiting for the boys to finish their whole “skit” for information.

Dean would go in and antagonize the partner of the cop from the article which would inevitably fail. So Sam would be waiting there telling Dean, who he pretends to not know, to (in a lack of a better word) f- off so that Sam could weasel his way into questioning.

A very complicated plan for a bunch of dummies. I sigh again, my eyes closing in the progress, I try to force the tension out of my body, all the arguing infecting my usual good mood.

I open my eyes back up only to round the car and find it locked. My head falls forward, my chin touching my chest, of course Dean would lock his precious car. I glanced around me, barely anyone lingering outside except some people up against the bar smoking or leaving to go elsewhere, no one was looking so I gingerly tapped the handle, a swirl of purple mist leaving my fingertip until it slithered its way into the car and its mechanics. With a satisfying click the little lock pokes up, I grin as I pull open the door leaning in only to rustle through my bag and pull out my book.

Dean would have to forgive me, though my little trick did nothing to harm the car to begin with. I push down the lock, jabbing into my palm as I do so, closing the door behind me I make my way to the front of the car once more leaning against it as I open up my worn book of Little Women for the hundredth time. The pages had long begun to yellow though it only went as far as a light yellow, still the crisp smell of an old book wafted into my nose, serenity finding me.

Suddenly the bar door slams open, startling me for a moment after getting lost in the prospect of an escape. Dean quickly walks over to where I was waiting looking extra grumpy, his eyebrows scrunched together with his arms thrown out, “He pushed me so hard!” He nearly yells, his choice of words were childish at worst and yet it was very amusing. “Why are you reading that again?” He asks, suddenly pointing at my book.

“‘Cause I love it” I smile simply.

“Haven’t you read that a hundred times?” he asks, moving next to me, leaning against the car too.

“Give or take” I laugh lightly, “It’s one of my many comfort books.” I mark my spot before shutting the book. “I’m guessing your silly plan worked?” I ask him as he leans closer to me. He gives me that devilish smirk, “Not silly if it worked, sweetheart.”

Some time later Sam exits the bar, “Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy” Dean spits.

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam bites back, just tension building on more tension. But there’s only so much the atmosphere or people can take before it blows up.

“Huh?”

“It’s like immersing yourself emotionally and psychologically with your character” I whisper before closing my book shut. But instead of clarity crossing over Dean's face he looks just as confused if not a little more. Sam sighs, “Never mind.”

“Okay so what’d he tell you?” I ask.

“So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.” Sam explains. Basically nothing to suggest him suddenly committing a murder suicide.

“What about at home?” Dean shoots back.

“He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.” Sam answers, I frown at the last part there was a whole life they could have lived.

“Alright, so either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.” Dean acknowledges.

“Well did anything happen as of supper recently that would even hint to a psychotic break?” I ask even though based on what we have it didn’t seem likely.

“No” Sam shakes his head, “Not that he mentioned at least.” I nod my head making a small mental note of that possibility, although unlikely, just in case.

“What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?” Dean questions.

“A lot.”

A loud horn blares from a nearby truck as Sam makes his way over the tall fence. With Dean slightly ahead of me I begin to climb the chain linked fence, I get a small jumping start clutching on to the cold fence. I shove my shoes into the little groves as I make my way up swiftly, being able to lift my legs high enough that I could make it to the top in about four moves. I balance myself on top of it before swinging my leg over it, I reposition myself to dangle slightly as my feet find purchase in the fence when about half way down I just decide to jump the rest of the way, landing on my feet in an almost crouched position.

The asylum itself didn’t look like it was falling apart but the overgrown bushes on the plot, the moss covering the building and the boarded up windows were a tell-tale tell sign enough that it was abandoned. The only thing keeping it from being entirely creepy was the early morning sun.

The door had no lock on it most likely from all the trespassing. But just as the door fell open an immediate musty smell hit my nose from all the trash covering the floor from beer bottles and cans to random bits of paper. Every surface of the walls was covered by either graffiti or mold, only small hints of the old green wallpaper left behind. “So apparently the cops chased the kids here....into the south wing.” Sam points to the sign hung over the door. The letters were mostly peeling, just another sign of the aging building.

“South wing, huh?” Dean breathes out, “Wait a second.” He pulls out his Dada journal from the inside pocket of his coat, flipping the pages until he found whatever he was looking for, “1972. Three kids broke into the south wing, only one survived. Way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place.”

“So the South Wing seems to be the route of this all” I remark.

“But if the kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?” Dean points out, looking up from the journal. Sam notes the rusted, broken chains hanging from the handle of the door, “Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could've been chained up for years.”

“Yeah, to keep people out. Or to keep something in.” Dean comments.

I cringe, “Is it really necessary to say such ominous things?”

“What? It’s the truth” Dean shrugs and I roll my eyes.

“Are you guys done?” Sam asks looking at us impatiently

“Yeah yeah open the door” I say before quickly adding a mumble of, “I hope a rat jumps out at you”

Sam looks at me with a mix of being offended and being annoyed, “Why would you say that?”

“Sorry!” I say half meaning it, “It’s an abandoned building and all so you know…rats”

“Just” Dean starts, him being the annoyed one now, “Open the door.” Sam nods, carefully opening the rusted door with a creek revealing a long creepy hallway, but at last no rats scurry out. The long hall was somehow only slightly better than the entrance with the walls peeling of its paint, most of it replaced by mold which only increases as the hallway extends, if we get sick we’ll know why that’s for sure.

“Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel.” Dean jokes, lighting the mood as he pulls out his EMF reader, referencing the movie Six Sense. “Dude, enough.” Sam groans.

“I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on.” Dean says. Without missing a beat, Sam bites back, “I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell.”

“Anything going on with your EMF?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “Nope. Of course, it doesn't mean no one's home.” Dean answers.

“Well, spirits can't appear during certain hours of the day.” Sam adds.

“Yeah, the freaks come out at night.” Dean comments.

The room falls quiet for a moment before Dean speaks up again, “Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you?” Sam pushes his brother in response. “Oh definitely Jennifer Love Hewitt, I mean did you see her in Shortcut to Happiness ‘cause…wow” I answer before quickly adding, “No offense Sammy.” But Sam pushes me lightly too, a laugh bubbling up from my chest as I nearly knock into the moldy wall.

We enter a room that smells worse than the main entrance area, the culprit of the rotting flesh smell most likely being whatever pink goop is spilling out of a glass jar with liquid on a table in the far corner. This asylum was truly amazing at one-upping itself in terms of being horrible. The entire room is bad itself, all sorts of equipment they used on patients long ago when they had no clue what a mental illness really was or how to help people who struggled with it.

“God, they did such horrible things to these poor people” I remarked, stepping deeper into the room. The sight of a clearly used surgery table sending a shiver down my spine. Dean lets out a low whistle, “Electro-shock. Lobotomies…”

“Did you know JFK’s sister got a lobotomy done because she suffered from seizures and mood swings. But it only wound up leaving her permanently incapacitated and unable to properly speak, only goes to show how little they knew about all that stuff” I say, recalling a fact I remember reading about somewhere in an article.

“‘That one of your fun facts?” Dean inquires, clearly humoring me. I hum a “mhm” as I bend down slightly to look at a glass container filled with some sort of yellow liquid. I almost expect something equally as gross to be inside but there isn’t.

“So. Whaddaya think? Ghosts possessing people?” Dean asks out loud to no one in particular.

“Maybe. Or maybe it's more like Amityville, or the Smurl hunting.” Sam answers, listing out examples of cases in which people claimed the devil had told them to do something bad and or possessed them. “Or Son of Sam, though that guy was just a basket case who admitted to lying about that demon bit” I add.

“Spirits driving them insane. Kinda like my man Jack in The Shining.” Dean quips in, always with his references. I look up from the vials of I don’t know what to see him grinning, a smile forming on my own face at his charming expression.

“Dean.” Sam calls out, gaining his brother's attention, “When are we going to talk about it?” Uneasiness slips its way into the cracks of the building, finding us. “Talk about what?” Dean asks back, but I have a feeling he knows what he’s talking about, it was clear as day. “About the fact Dad's not here.” Sam answers, already clearly annoyed. I straightened up, moving an inch closer to where they stood in the middle of the room in case I had to break up another fight. It hadn’t been anywhere close to a week from the last time I had to do so back in Kansas. “Oh. I see.” Dean replies, “How ’bout...never.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “I'm being serious, man. He sent us here…” Dean cuts in immediately, “So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later.” They moved closer to each other with each word they spat, up until they got close enough that they would be able to throw a punch if they decided to. “It doesn't matter what he wants.” Sam argues.

“See. That attitude? Right there?” Dean points at him, “That is why I always get the extra cookie.”

“Guys come on, you can argue this later let’s just finish this hunt” I sigh, crossing my arms across my chest. Sam glares at me as if to say “stay out of this”, I get why they’re upset but all this arguing gets us nowhere and it’s beginning to get annoying. Sam turns back to his brother, “Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about.”

“I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order.” Dean replies rather calmly. I don’t necessarily like John, knowing everything he put my boys through made it hard to. But he was their Dad and Dean wanted my help and so I will help find their Dad, even if I mostly agree with Sam. “So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders?” Sam spits, and I almost hate the fact that I do agree with him.

I try to ignore their arguing, knowing they wouldn’t let up, it wasn’t the sort of argument where someone won. I open a drawer near me, cobwebs and multiple clippings from old patient files filling it. “Of course we do.” I hear Dean answer.

I carefully take the clippings out, trying to avoid the cobwebs. I look through the handful quickly everything either ripped off or eradicated except bits of the Doctor's name. “If you're done over there it seems the main evil doctor was ‘Sanford Ellicott’. We should probably research him and the south wing, see what we can find” I say plainly, hoping this could all be over with soon so at least they would stop fighting.

I keep my legs up on the soft chair, my knees to my chest as I read my book. Dean is sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair, his legs spread widely. From my peripheral vision I see him stare up at the ceiling clearly bored as we wait for his brother to be done in therapy, or really done questioning the apparent son of Dr.Ellicott.

He groans, the noise coming from deep in his chest. I put my bookmark back in my book, shutting it and putting it next to me. I put my arms on my propped up knees lying the side of my face down on them, my cheek squishing against my arm as I peer at Dean. The immediate thought of how good he looks with his head thrown back, a very light stubble gracing his face, his eyes looking greener with the light shining from behind us and—

I shove the thought far into the back of my mind, it wasn’t the time for this not at all. Not even a little. “‘You okay?” I ask softly.

He rolls his head to the side, eyeing me “Sammy’s taking too damn long. He’s already pissed me off.”

“He wouldn’t be taking long unless it was necessary” I answer, smiling at his demeanor. He groans again, “Do you wanna go get coffee? I saw a place a block away, Sam can text when he’s done.” I offer, hoping it would distract him from being so pissed off. He leans his head up, squinting at me, “Is this your attempt at curing my boredom?”

“That depends, is it working?” I squint back at him as I lift my head from my arms, laughter threatening to bubble from my lips.

“Yes” He nods, throwing his hand on my knee, “Let’s go” but he keeps his hand there, a giddy nervousness settling itself in my stomach.

“See I told you couples therapy works!” a hushed voice says catching our attention. I look up to see a red headed girl and her tan boyfriend walking past us without trying to hide their stares, “Wer— we aren’t—“ I try to say loud enough for them to hear but my voice doesn't reach them, “Actually” I sigh, my face feeling warm, “it’s probably best if they just go to therapy.”

I turn my head back towards Dean, finding him already looking at me with scrunched eyebrows, studying me as if he was contemplating something. I place my hand over his, only realizing then my hands were cold when compared to his warm ones, “Ready?” I ask softly. He clears his throat abruptly, nodding his head as he removes his hand from my knee and gets up. I make sure to grab my book as I follow suit, but we only reach the door when a familiar tall figure walks right past us.

Dean's body language changes, he turns back to me confused and annoyed before pushing through the door. Tension clearly already has made its home in his back and shoulders. “Dude! You were in there forever, we were about to leave you. What the hell were you talking about?” He calls out towards his brother, easily matching his pace.

“Just the hospital, you know.” Sam answers plainly. I jog to catch up to them and their stupid long legs, “What’d you find?” I ask.

“The south wing? It's where they housed the really hard cases. The psychotics, the criminally insane.” “Sounds cozy.” Dean remarks.

“Yeah. And one night in '64, they rioted. Attacked staff. Attacked each other.” Sam elaborates.

“Any deaths? Dean follows up.

“Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never even recovered, including our chief of staff, Ellicott.”

“Did they…stuff him somewhere. I mean I feel like the place is only so big, right?” I hesitantly say.

Sam shrugs, “Cops scoured every inch of the place.”

“That's grim.” Dean murmurs just as we reach the Impala. “Yeah. So, they transferred all the remaining patients and closed the hospital down” Sam says as he rounds the car.

“So, to sum it up, we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies.” Dean lists out.

“And a bunch of angry spirits.” Sam adds

“Cute.” I remark, sarcastically.

“Let's check out the hospital tonight.” Dean finishes, opening the car door.

I shine my flashlight over the asylum, naturally in the darkness of the night it was far creepier than it was only hours before. I follow behind the boys as they enter the dingy entrance, making sure I don’t hit into the duffle bag hanging from Dean's shoulder. “‘You guys getting anything?” I ask since they hold the equipment. Dean holds his EMF reader out in front of him, “Yeah, big time.”

“This place is orbing like crazy.” Sam adds, looking at the screen of the camera he holds. “Eww, why would you say it like that?” I cringe before mimicking the way he said “orbing.” Sam turns around slowly, glaring at me “How mature of you, Y/n” he deadpans. “Hey i’m just calling it as it is” I respond in defense. He glares at me one last time, turning back around and I hear him mimic what I said. I’m about to hit him on the arm when Dean starts speaking, he looks between us, ultimately choosing to ignore our childish behavior, “There’s probably multiple spirits out and about.”

Sam added “And if these uncovered bodies are causing the haunting…”

“We gotta find ’em and burn ’em.” Dean finishes, “Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit... is the pissed off spirit of a psycho killer.” With that we keep walking until we hit the same room we were in the last time we were here, not having gone any further than that the first time around.

We walk a few feet further separating into three different rooms. I scanned my flashlight over the dark room, it had no windows though even if it did it would have been boarded up meaning no natural light to begin with had it been daytime. It was a relatively small room with more graffiti lining the originally white walls. I take a single step into the room, glass crunching underneath my shoe, I lift my foot immediately, kicking the broken glass bottle to the side.

I move further into the room, an overturned desk and a long gone broken lamp on the floor. Must have been a little office, I think to myself as I walk over to the desk finding a small knocked over filing cabinet. I nudged the metal cabinet with my foot, testing to see if anything wanted to make an appearance…like a rat.

When nothing comes from it I twirl my finger, an invisible force turning the cabinet right side up making it accessible. I pull each draw open, still cautious of any critters crawling out, hoping that there would be some hint as to where to look for the unfound bodies. “Y/n” I hear my name called out from behind me.

“Yeah?” I say turning around but there’s no one there. I shine my flashlight first on the doorway, only shadows dancing on the outskirts of my light. I purse my lips, a small pinch of fear forming itself in my heart. I move my flashlight slowly to shine in the corner, every hair on my body standing up. An old man with deep sunken eyes stands in the corner, his body permanently hunched over with his head tilted to the side. Countless needles stick out from his ghostly body, piercing through his hospital gown.

My mouth goes slack with an almost scream in warning to the boys. Still the man doesn't move, he just stares at me which is arguably worse than if he lunged at me, his mouth moves as if in an attempt to say something but his jaw is broken and the words come out in an extended noise. “b….b…b—“ The loud sound of a shotgun goes off just across from the man, my head snaps in the direction of the doorway, a breathless Dean standing there his gun still pointed at the man. “We thought something happened!” Sam half yells, standing right behind his brother.

“I literally haven’t moved from here” I respond, looking back at the corner where he stood. “You okay sweetheart?” Dean asks. I nod, “Yeah, I mean he didn’t do anything he was just—“

“Standing there” Sam finishes my sentence, “See I told you!”—he nudges his brother—“There’s something weird with the spirits here, they aren’t being aggressive-“ I cut him off this time, concern and confusion making my eyebrows scrunch together, “Wait you encountered a spirit?”

“You didn’t hear Sammy scream for us? Or the gun?” Dean asks. I look between them only being more confused, “No, what are you talking about?!” Except they don’t answer, only looking at each other and then back at me, eyes wide, “Alright something really is going on” Dean admits.

They begin to shuffle out of the room, and I follow, we walk aimlessly down the hall in thought when suddenly a noise like metal scraping against the floor comes from a room just steps away. Dean immediately raises his shotgun, carefully entering the room with Sam and I acting as the lightning. The room had a singular upturned bed facing the only window in the small room, a ragged sheet covering the bed barely concealing the top of a blonde head. We all share a look, bracing ourselves, Sam reaches out tipping over the bed causing it to come down with a loud crash. A young girl sits crouched on the floor, panting and grasping her chest.

“It's alright, we're not going to hurt you. It's okay. What's your name?” Dean asks the poor girl, moving his gun down and away from the girl. “Katherine. Kat.” She answers, peering up at us with her big brown eyes.

“What are you doing here!?” Sam half yells at her. I hit his arm, “You suck at comforting people” I mumbled loud enough for him to hear, nearly missing the glare I received in return. I move past Dean leaning down towards the girl, offering my hand to help her up. You can comfort someone without making them seem incapable. She eyes me carefully for a beat before shakily reaching up and taking my hand, “Um. My boyfriend, Gavin” she answers as I lift her up. “Is he here?” Dean asks.

She lets go of my hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears, “Somewhere. He thought it would be fun, try and see some ghosts” she explains, "I thought it was all just...you know. Pretend. I've seen things. I heard Gavin scream and... “

“Alright.” Dean responds, pausing for a beat as if to go over the plan he most definitely already made, “Kat? Come on. Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend.”

“No! No. I'm not going to leave without Gavin. I'm coming with you.” Kat declares, looking frantically between us all.

“It's no joke around here, okay. It's dangerous.” Dean lectures, his voice getting increasingly louder. “That's why I gotta find him” she answers, her voice stern and straight regardless of being clearly shaken up. Dean meets Sam and then my eyes, “Alright, I guess we gunna split up then. Y/N with Sam, Kat with me. Let’s go.”

I lead the way out this time, Sam right next to me as we go down hallway after hallway. Each one seemingly more intricate than the last, if that was even possible. I hope Sam is keeping track of where we are because I’m already lost.

“Gavin?” I call out, peeking around each hallway corner. Is it possible he left? No he wouldn’t leave his girlfriend, right? Though the asylum is huge and he could be anywhere—“Y/N! Over here!” Sam calls out from down the hallway to my left. I swirl around heading towards him, crouched down near a rouge hospital bed, I hear him speak as I approach “Hey, Gavin. It's okay, I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” He responds, fixing his brown hair as he pushes himself away from Sam knocking into the wall behind him in the process. “My name is Sam, that’s Y/N” he gestures towards me, “Uh, we found your girlfriend.”

“Kat?” He asks his brown eyes widening, he gets up revealing his height. He isn't as tall as Sam, probably closer to Dean's height then anything but he was certainly taller then me and his girlfriend. “Is she alright?”

“Yeah. She's worried about you. Are you okay?” Sam responds.

“I was running. I think I fell.” He lifts his hand to the side of his head, his corduroy jacket moving with him. “What were you running from?” I ask.

“There was...there was this girl. Her face. It was all messed up.”

“Okay listen, did this girl... did she try and hurt you?” Sam follows up, asking carefully. “What? No, she...uh…”

“She what?” Sam asks, impatience on the tip of his tongue.

“She...kissed me.”

…The hall falls silent, neither of us expecting that to be his answer. I’ve never heard of a case in which someone was kissed by a ghost. I mean that’s just disgusting and horrifying, no amount of mouthwash can fix that…or therapy. “Uh...um...but...but she didn't hurt you, physically?” Sam finally says.

“Dude! She kissed me. I'm scarred for life!” Gavin yells, his eyes widening again. “Well, trust me, it could have been worse.” Sam replies, again not much on the comforting side. Plus I feel like I’d rather be thrown ten feet then kissed by a ghost. “I’m sorry we have to pressure you like this now after you just experienced that but is there anything else you remember?” I ask softly.

“She uh...actually, she tried to whisper something in my ear.” He answers shyly, almost embarrassed by all this. “What?” Sam shoots back.

“I don't know. I ran like hell.” He answers truthfully.

“That’s the third encounter without an attack” Sam thinks out loud. Gavin glares at him sharply, “Oh…Um…besides the…Uh…kissing” Sam adds.

“Can we really trust that the South Wing really did have violent patients? I mean the workers here aren’t exactly the most reliable considering everything they’ve done to these poor people” I mention.

“She’s got a point” Gavin intervenes. We both look at him, “Um yeah. But what if they were trying to tell us something?” Sam says.

“You mean like some hint as to where uh…” I look over at Gavin knowing I can’t exactly say a rotting body somewhere, “you know is” I mumble looking back at Sam. “Yeah” he answers just as a loud scream rings out from afar. We all share a look of confusion and worry, “That sounds like Kat!” Gavin says. Not waiting a second later we go off running in the direction of the screaming, just about everything you're not supposed to do.

Just down the hall Dean is banging on a huge metal door with a pipe. “What’s going on?” Sam asks just as we approach.

“She's inside with one of them.” He answers his breath a little labored. Kay screams again, “Help me!!”

“Kat!” Gavin yells back banging on the door.

“Get me outta here!” She shouts.

I hide my hand behind my hip making sure to look down, to avoid having to explain anything to Gavin later. With my concealed hand I reached it over to the metal door, my fingertips barely brushing the cold exterior before a hand wrapped around my wrist pulling it forth. “Wait” Sam said sternly, dropping my wrist. I turn my head to look at Dean with questioning eyes as if he would have a reason why his brother stopped me. But when I look at him he’s looking between my wrist and his brother, his eyes scrunched in offense and what may look like anger, upset he stopped me, because doing so might be risking an innocent girl's life.

“Kat, it's not going to hurt you. Listen to me. You've got to face it. You've got to calm down.” Sam commands, talking to Kat through the door. He must be thinking back to what we said before. “She's gotta what?!” Dean yells, astonished.

“I have to what?!” Kat shouts back.

“These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate.” Sam explains, indeed referencing what we were discussing before I just hope he’s right, “You gotta face it. You gotta listen to it.”

“You face it!” Kat snaps back. A smile threatening to show on my lips. “No! It's the only way to get out of there” Sam insists.

“No!” Kat screams.

“Sam, come on let me get her out” I say quietly hoping only those who know about my abilities can hear me. “No” He says towards me before directing his voice towards the door, “Look at it, come on. You can do it.”

She seems to listen to him, no more screams against his plan. We all wait impatiently, the air thick with anxiety, if this doesn’t work then we caused a very avoidable death. “Kat?” Gavin calls out.

“Man, I hope you're right about this.” Dean grumbles.

“Yeah, me too” Sam nods.

“No offense Sammy, but you should have voiced your concern before” I bite, crossing my arms across my chest.

Suddenly the door creaks open slowly, Kat peeking out. Her eyes are wide and blank, clearly startled and traumatized. “Oh, Kat” Gavin murmurs, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend.

Sam maneuvers himself around them, opening the large door further to get past them into the room. He comes back out not even a minute later shaking his head, whatever spirit was in there isn’t anymore.

“One thirty-seven.” Kay says suddenly, wiping away her teary eyes.

“Sorry?” Dean looks at her, puzzled.

“It whispered in my ear. 137.” She clarified.

“Room number.” The boys and I said in sync, our eyes wide in clarity.

“Jinx” I say quickly pointing towards the boys. Dean groans, “You always win.”

I beam, looking up at him, “You just always forget.”

“Yeah cause he’s actually focused on the hunt” Sam quipped, annoyed. “Hey I am foc-“ I try to defend only getting cut off by Sam nudging Dean and I down the hall out of hearing reach throwing a “Excuse us” to the two teens.

“Alright. So if these spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone…” Sam starts getting his sentence finished by his brother, “Then what are they trying to do?”

“Maybe they're helping us out” I shrug, “Giving us hints?”

“I guess we'll find out.” Dean huffs.

“Alright.” Sam confirms, nothing more to be said.

Dean separates from our little huddle calling out to the kids waiting on us, “So, now, are you guys ready to leave this place?”

“That's an understatement.” Kat remarks.

“Okay.” He turns back to us, “Sam you get them outta here. Y/N were going to go find room 137.”

“Isn’t it best that I go with Sam?, make sure they can get out” I ask, not to say that I don’t want to go with Dean but still trying to be reasonable.

“If the spirits suddenly decide to get rowdy and gang up on me like they did Doc, I’d want you on my side” Dean answers, making a motion with his hands weirdly that I suppose is meant to represent my abilities. “Ok fair enough” I shrug, not needing any more convincing. Sam moves away towards Kat and Gavin. Dean and I waited until they were out of sight, getting led by Sam, before moving to find room 137.

We only move a few feet when I notice the lack of something in Dean's hand, “What happened to your flashlight?” I ask. He pulls back the side of his grayish-blue button down jacket exposing the thick flashlight tucked into his jeans, “Died jus’ before Kat got dragged into that room” he explains. I reluctantly drag my eyes back up to his face, a flashlight held in his jeans shouldn't have been hot, I give him a single awkward nod before forcing my eyes back in front of me.

“I think it’s down this way” He nudges my arm just as we get to the end of the long hallway, pointing left. I point my flashlight in that direction, the light illuminating the continuous mess of the asylum, “How do you know?” I ask. He shrugs, “Intuition.” I followed him down the hall even under the weak assumption, there were hardly any sign indicators and if there were they were unreadable due to destruction or graffiti.

I give him a look as we walk the hall, not finding the room. “I meant the next one over” he says with a stupid smile on his face. “Oh yeah of course” I nod, playing into whatever you want to call this.

He mumbles the room number underneath his breath, an excited-nervous energy surrounding him as we approach the supposed right hallway. It was adorable.

“Look who was right.” He says, his voice coming from behind me. I turn towards him an even bigger smile on his face, I lift my flashlight to shine where the number would be. “Let’s just hope the ghost wasn’t tricking us” I huff.

He goes to push the door open only to find it stuck on something, he grunts putting more of his body weight on the door until it’s open enough to let us through. The room is a mess (but what else is new for this place), filing cabinets pushed over, papers everywhere, the walls stained with something that I think I’d rather not know. I shine the flashlight around going over to one of the filing cabinets opening it to find manila folders, I flick through them. More patient files but nothing of use as of now.

I whirl around to find Dean crouched down in the back of the room, prying off a wooden panel. He finally gets it off with a loud cracking noise, “This is why I get paid the big bucks.” he murmurs, the only indication that he found something. “You don’t get paid any bucks” I responded.

He turns his head slowly to me in offense holding up a deteriorating satchel in one hand and a mess of papers in the other. He gets up handing me the stack of papers and with his foot drags up a nearby chair scooting it close for me before dragging up one for himself. I go through my stack, a bunch of drawn images of medical instruments like lobotomy pick, straight jackets and cuffs, and other drawings with no labels but incredibly detailed writing and drawings that were nothing more than torture. “This feels like a messed up book club” I comment.

“Yeah check this out. Dr. here believed that provoking extreme anger would be therapeutic.” He explains, “Seems like all he ever did was work on this theory.”

“I think I read a research paper from 2002 on a similar idea called catharsis” I explain, “It basically means venting out negative emotions, especially anger. However researchers found it did the opposite and more likely increased aggression. But I guess in this case he was forcing it rather than the patients venting out anger they had from past traumas or anything of the sort.”

I know he is listening to my rant, his eyes moving up from the book to look at me before going back to the journal, his eyes scrunched in concern at what he read, “All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy.”

I nearly laugh when a sudden creak comes from the hall, I look to Dean to find him with just as a confused face as mine. He had heard it too. He makes a “give me” motion so I hand over the papers, he puts them and the journal he read from back in the satchel. Without saying anything I knew he was moving us to check up on Sammy.

We manage our way back to the room Kat got locked into, but from there it winds up being a maze as to where Sammy could be. Lefts and rights and accidentally going in large circles. “Alright one more hallway and then we’re calling him” I plead, getting frustrated at this stupid musty asylum. “Deal” Dean nods.

The floor was particularly bad in this hall, each step followed by a creak each one louder then the next. Just as we reach the end of the hallway and turn right, for a split second, Kat stands there shotgun raised at us, her finger on the trigger. She shoots. Dean throws himself backwards, his arm going out right in front of me pushing me back against the corner wall out of the way from danger. Both of us were up against the wall next to each other, his arm just beneath my breasts holding me in place. A large puff of white smoke looking substance flies out from the wall, bits of the wall crumbling to the floor just by Dean's shoulder opposite to the one near me. Acting as the only signs of where the bullet had gone.

Our labored breaths nearly matched each other's, chests heaving. His arm remains where it is even when no more shots ring out, he yells, “Damn it, damn it, don’t shoot! It's us!!”

“Sorry! Sorry.” Kat meekly cries out.

“Jesus Chri-“ I peered around Dean's body at the shot, she would have killed us. Impressive. I bring a shaky hand up to the arm that still held me, he drops his arm allowing me to move past him and round the corner to the people who nearly ended us.

“What are you still doing here?! You're supposed to be gone! Also, why are you good with a gun?!” I exclaim. Dean immediately adding, “Where’s Sam?” Our rushed voices combining for a melody of pressured questions.

“He went to the basement. You called him.” Gavin answers, pointing to Dean. “I didn't call anybody.” Dean replies, looking at me confused I shrug not having any idea myself.

“His cell phone rang. He said it was you.” Kat elaborates.

“Basement, huh?” Dean hums before turning to me, “I’m gonna go to Sam, get them out of here.”

“Wait no I should come with you” I say.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart, just get them out of here” He orders, but his voice is soft where it should be commanding. He takes the gun from Kat and before I can say anything more he’s running off.

I turn towards the door, trying to think of the least suspicious way possible to open the door. A chain with a lock lies on the floor just in front of my feet. It must not just be a locked door, perhaps it is the spirits here keeping it closed. I pull on the door handle letting my powers seep into the large door willing it open. It opens with another pull, having to use a lot of strength to open the old door. “Alright let’s go” I say, turning to the two behind me. They look at me with a mix of shock and confusion, “How di-“ Gavin asks before I cut him off, “It was just jammed” I lie.

I follow them down the steps and watch them climb over the fence. I wait until I see them physically get into the car, both kids looking back almost hesitant to leave us behind. But I have no time to help with their guilty conscience, I turn back toward the building immediately running up the steps and back into the asylum. I curse not knowing which way Dean exactly went or where the hell the basement was let alone where a staircase was.

In the dim, haunting corridors of the abandoned asylum, panic pulses through me like a heartbeat. The suffocating air clings to my skin as I navigate the labyrinth that is this building. Every step feels like a hesitant dance with the unknown. I try to suppress the fear clawing at my throat, envisioning worst-case scenarios involving Sam and Dean. Could they be hurt, trapped, dead? My thoughts are a chaotic whirlwind, one that feels too overwhelming to control as pathetic as it sounds and feels.

Desperation fuels my movements as I sprint down seemingly endless hallways, each one a haunting replica of the last. It's a macabre maze, and my heart races with the urgency of finding the elusive staircase leading to the basement.

As I turn another corner, the harsh silence amplifies the echoes of my footsteps. "Sam! Dean!" I call out, my voice swallowed by the oppressive stillness. The only response is the distant moan of the decaying building. With determination fueling my every step, I press forward, driven by the desperate need to uncover the secrets hidden below. The dim light casts distorted shadows on peeling wallpaper, playing tricks on my eyes. Yet, I press on, the image of the elusive staircase driving me forward, my breath a rhythm of fear and determination.

As if the old building heard my pleas I spot a door just at the end of the hall, a medal bar for the handle and if it isn’t my eyes playing tricks on me then a small sign signifying a person walking up stairs lies on the small window on the door. I all but ran over, the thing I needed most lying right there. As I push open the door, anticipation and anxiety rests behind my rib cage, a reminder that finding the door wasn’t enough. I still needed to find them.

However, as the door creaks open, my heart sinks. Before me lies a staircase, but it ascends rather than descending. Everything that I do not need. I was being mocked. The staircase leading upward into the unknown when my every instinct demands a descent into the depths below.

I stand at the threshold, contemplating my next move. Panic threatens to resurface, but I force a deep breath, I know what I must do even when it is foreign to me. I had not trained in it, hadn’t studied it enough, so much of me was like that. So many abilities I could have and use but always dared to leave untouched, this being one of them. I knew only how to use it in such short distances, and only in spaces that I could see. Not like this.

But I’m afraid and desperate enough. I know the boys are very capable of taking care of themselves, yet an unmistakable fear lives behind my rib cage for those I love, a fear of losing them. I close my eyes. This staircase had to be close enough. My fear had to be enough. I force another deep breath, bracing my feet beneath me. I could picture the room around me even with my eyes sealed, focusing on how the walls stretched above me in my mind's eye.

I had not seen the basement, hadn’t a single idea what it even began to look like. Yet still I force my perception down, below the concrete laying underneath my shoes. But more than that I needed to find them, I try my best to picture them specifically even in an unknown location. The air seems to ripple around me, reality folding over itself.

I open my eyes, no longer in the stairwell but presumably in the basement. The only indication I’ve gone to the right place is the boy's only feet in front of me. What should be a triumphant moment is crushed under the scene in front of me.

Dean is on his back splayed across the floor, broken wall beneath him the concrete powder sticking to his clothes. Sam is standing over him, shotgun pointed down at his brother, I can not see his full face from here but I can see it is etched in anger. “Sam!” I yell, catching his attention. He turns to me, his face scrunched in disgust, he does not lower the gun.

“What the hell is hap-“ I try to ask but the gun goes off with a loud bang. Suddenly I’m in front of him, the bullets hitting the hall that laid behind me when I stood in the doorway. I teleported out of danger without a second's thought, I make a mental note for later as I punch Sammy square in the face, my knuckles hitting against his sharp jaw.

He stumbles back a few feet, my knuckles burn, he will have to forgive me later. I do not want to hurt him but I do need to stop him. I mumble a sorry, hooking my leg behind his, hitting into the back of his knee with my foot forcing his legs to collapse beneath him knocking him to his knees. I use his shock as leverage, easily pulling the gun from his hands, I point the gun at him even though I do not want to.

Dean groans still on the ground, only having leaned up from his position. Sam holds his hands up, “Shoot me” he spits. He was taunting me, testing me. “I have no need to” I answer calmly. He was possessed or influenced by the doctor here, this wasn’t really him, I knew that.

I hear Dean get up, panting and making small noises of pain. I look over at him from the corner of my eye, watching him hold just below his chest in pain, “You okay there?” I ask, earning a grumbled “yeah”. Dean drags himself to the front of the room where he must have dropped the duffle bag he was carrying.

In the corner of my eye I see Sam try to lunge towards me, I snap my attention back to him “Hey”,I warn, “Stop.” He looked even more pissed, his mouth twitching with words he wanted to say, “You think protecting him is gonna make him fall in love with you?” He says quietly. I check behind me but Dean makes no indication that he heard, I know it’s not really him speaking but the words still sting. “I’m not that diluted” I answered, turning back to him.

“You follow him around like a lost puppy, it’s pathetic” He laughs, “Really, you follow us around. But we don’t need you, we’d be better off without you. All you do is take up space.” The words bite into my skin, my heart suddenly feeling heavy. Losing my firm stance he grasps onto my ankle pulling it towards him sharply, knocking me on my ass hard. He punches me, his fist connecting with my nose, my eyes tearing up on its own accord with a harsh throbbing. He snatches the gun back when I hear movement towards us, without looking I shout back “I can take him, just find the body!”

Sam straddles my lap, his knees pinning my hands to the floor with an incredible amount of pain, and I can not pull my hands free. He grabs my chin roughly forcing my gaze on him, my neck leaning up at a weird angle, “You feel the need to be with us, it’s the only thing that fills the gap of being left behind your whole life.”

Hurt and anger burn my eyes. I move my face out of his hold and he lets me, I lean my head back before slamming it into his. The resounding clash of our heads echoed through the air, an abrupt collision that sent shockwaves of discomfort rippling through my skull. He loses slight balance, his knees leave my hands the feeling rushing back into them but I do not leave time for feelings of victory. I shove him back, using more force than I probably should have.

I stand up swiftly, stumbling over myself slightly, my head throbbing severely. “You” I point, breathing heavily, “Have a hard head.” He tries to reach for the gun but I kick it out of reach before he’s able to.

I knew Dean was close by even with the room being so large and divided, but I didn’t know how close he was to finishing up. There was a strong sense of dread in my stomach, I don’t want to fight anymore, maybe curl up into a ball and contemplate life but not fight. “Please, stay down” I beg, my eyes still teary from a mix of a reaction to the pain and just being upset.

He leans up, that horrible anger still etched on his face. I hold my hand up at him, extending my force outwards pinning him down with an invisible force. He struggles against it, his arms shaking. I grit my teeth, disgust tangling itself in my gut. Yes this was out of self defense and necessity but this wasn’t me. He was my friend, to restrain him in such a way…with my abilities…when I’m meant to help people.

I force my face away, a lump tight in my throat when I catch my reflection on a piece of broken glass in the far edge of the room. It was if I was being teased by the devil himself, staring at a reflection I wasn’t sure I even recognized. My eyes were fierce yet brimmed with tears, my pupils glowing purple. Where did this lie in morality? It felt wrong. So disgustingly wrong even if it was meant to be helpful.

Only a little longer, only until the remains were burnt and Sam was fine. “Y/N”

“Y/N!” He begs.

I turned my head back to him, the anger previously on his face melted away. I immediately release my hold on him, dropping my hand down swiftly. For a moment there it seemed fear had crossed his eyes, I took a step back lifting my hand to my forehead, a thin line of sweat wetting my face. My chest heaves, complete overwhelm filling my senses. I feel it in my bones this need to move, to get out. It had not taken anything out of me to hold him down, and that is what scared me the most.

Dean shuffles back into view, coming over and helping this brother up. When had he walked over here? I take another step back, their voices meshing together in a blob of incoherent sounds. A strong familiar hand grasps my upper arm, I look up at Dean, his eyes scrunched together in concern. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, but his voice seems so far away. I look over at Sam, a bruise already forming on his jaw a reminder of what I had done. I find no fear in his eyes any longer, not even as he rubs at the forming mark. I nod absent-mindedly at Dean's question, though it wasn’t true and he had known that too.

He gives my arm a firm squeeze before sliding it down slowly to my hand, intertwining our fingers together. I look up at him again, but his face is turned away already walking towards the duffel bag bringing me along with him. He doesn't say anything about holding my hand, not even as he leans down to the bag swinging it over the shoulder that is opposite to where I stand.

He leads the way out of the basement, Sam following behind us silently. I let him lead me, just staring down at our intertwined hands. His sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, ‘must have done that when he left us before. Holding hands wasn’t totally uncommon for us and we both happened to be touchy people, even so butterflies danced in my stomach.

When we finally reached the exit, the early morning sun had begun to shine through the clouds. Every one of our movements was done in silence, he let go of my hand only until we climbed back over the fence. The second both our feet had hit the ground he claimed it once more.

Just a short distance away Kat and Gavin lean against their car, my eyes scrunch in confusion. I thought they left. “What are you guys still doing here?” I call out from a few feet away. They analyze us, probably noticing the clear sign of a fight and who I’m holding hands with but I do not let go of his hand, and he makes no move to do so either. “We wanted to make sure you got out” Kat answers, crossing her arms across her chest, “And to say thank you.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Gavin adds in.

“No more haunted asylums, okay?” Dean replies. They nod and get in the car, this time starting it up.

“Hey, guys?” Sam says quietly as we begin to walk towards the Impala. He gets in front of us, walking backwards so we couldn’t ignore him, “I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there.”

I frown, not wanting to be reminded of something that happened only minutes ago. “You remember all that?” Dean scuffs.

“Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it.” He says making sure he directs it at both of us.

“You must believe it on some subconscious level…right?” I say. I do not mean to come off harsh or make him feel worse about himself, but he had to feel that way on some level. He doesn't say anything for a minute, and I suddenly feel bad for what I said, “No, of course not! Do we need to talk about this?” He insists.

Reaching the Impala Dean unlocks the car, opening my door with his free hand but I make no moves of getting in just yet. He lets go of my hand, moving to the back of the car to throw in the duffel before rounding the rest of the car to the driver seat. Just before he gets in he answers his brother, venom clear on his tongue, “No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.” He slams the car door behind him.

I look over at Sam, total defeat written all over his face. I move past the car door moving right in front of Sam, he looked down at me expectantly. I wrap my arms around his middle and hug him. We will go to a motel and sleep the night off, and I don’t want to go to bed upset. His initial surprise wears off and he hugs me back, I pull away slightly. “You said mean things and I know you're sorry, but they still hurt… I’m not mad at you for thinking like that, I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt us.” I say softly, I don’t like being angry at someone or holding grudges.

His eyes are filled with desperate sorrow as he says, “I’m sorry.” He hugs me tightly adding a quiet, “thank you.” And I knew he had meant for just talking to him about it even if it was only a little and for not hating him. We pull away from each other, and he ruffles my hair like an annoying brother before getting in the Impala. I move past the open door again, this time getting in.

Even after a nice hot shower and being all cozied up in the motel bed, sleep still could not find me. I groan frustrated, switching positions for the upteenth time, glad that I had my own room so as to not wake anyone.

I shift again, moving onto my back, the memories of what happened earlier playing through my head on repeat. Whether Sam meant it or not he was right. They didn’t need me, they were more than capable by themselves. Maybe I should go back home.

I could call Adeline, ask her if she could pick me up from the airport and take me home. The plane ride wouldn’t be so bad, I just have to figure out how to get to the airport with no car of my own. But that thought upset me more. I’d go home and worry over the boys excessively, where they were, how they were doing, if they were safe or even alive, if they found their dad. Maybe I was a burden to them.

God. And what I did to Sam? To use my powers like that?! Though I guess before the whole fight the teleporting was quite impressive especially because I am not skilled in that.

I want to be the best, but I'm afraid of what that would mean. What I would become.

I shift again, my feet tangling under the heavy covers. I sit up letting the blankets fall to my waist, and without thinking I pick up my phone dialing in her number. I had no idea what time it was in New York City but I knew she didn’t care about that sort of thing, she would pick up regardless of time or what she was doing. The phone barely gets to ring for a third time when she answers, “Hey Addie…”

#supernatural #fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #john winchester #slow burn #witch reader #witchcraft #dean winchester x witch reader #the hunter and the witch update #the hunter and the witch #dean winchester x f!reader #dean winchester being a cutie #dean winchester x you

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strangelittlestories · 3 months

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The necromancer, Bonaparte, stared at the horizon with bored black eyes. Beneath his gaze, the visitors bearing their flag of truce were ushered forwards by his skeletal honour guard.

“I will accept your surrender now.”

The commanding officer - not the original, but the surviving one - stepped towards the tyrant. She wore a Brigid’s Cross made of dirty reeds on her lapel.

She could see the setting sun reflected in the necromancer’s obsidian gaze. Soon, the light would fade and dead would be at their strongest.

“I’m afraid I cannot offer you a surrender, Emperor of corpses. But I will beg for mercy, for you are the only soldier in your army with a heart to feel it.”

“My heart stopped beating long ago.”

“Yet I pray that enough feeling echoes in it still to grant clemency, despite your profanities.”

Then did the necromancer turn his gaze towards her. They were eyes that read fate and defied laws. She could have sworn she felt the air curdle, the ground buckle, and the light twist with its weight.

“Oh, your kings and queens are all so horrified by me and by what I do. They call it a crime against nature, a sin against god. Or *gods*.” He gestured to the cross on her uniform. “But if one has a war to fight - and if one believes in equal parts that war is *just* but also that no war *can* be just … is this not the most ethical, most correct thing? To fight the war in such a way that does not harm your subjects? Surely only a coward would let the disapproval of a few dozen gods sway them from saving a life?”

He paused as if to take a breath, but his chest did not move (he no longer needed air and considered it ill-disciplined to fall back into the habit of breathing).

The officer paused too. His words felt heavy in her head. His dry voice scratching uncomfortably at her mental walls. But in his eyes, she still saw the last dying rays of sunlight…

“I suppose, tyrant of sunset, that were I in your shoes I *would* be tempted to keep harm and death from me and mine. But even if I could, I hope I would not do what you have done. For I would fear what other harm I was doing.”

“And what harm is that?”

“To put it simply, marshal of styx, those bodies that fight for you? They’re *not *yours*. You stole them. Dug up graveyards, cracked open tombs, emptied ossuaries.” She tutted and sunlight flared in her disapproval. “Maybe a few are honoured comrades, true believers, but most? They wouldn’t even know you to say good morning, yet alone to salute. Their spirits may be gone, but that doesn’t mean you get to make their dust dance.”

“You defy me because you think my army is … theft?”

“That’s my line in the dirt. It may not be a good line. It may be a damned stupid line. I don’t know. But there it is - I know it, I feel it, it’s mine - like the bones that hold me upright.”

Bonaparte permitted himself a small sigh as a luxury.

“And after you die, those same bones will bow to me.”

#writing #short story #microfiction #flash fiction #is this bonaparte actually napoleon bonaparte?#is this more what-if-the-napoleonic-wars-but-with-zombies??#zombies #necromancer #fantasy #morality #lines in the dirt

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turtletaubwrites · 1 month

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Misty Eyes ~ Part 3

THIS FIC CONTAINS DARK CONTENT. 18+ ONLY. MDNI. *This part contains two Doffy flashbacks with a graphic depiction of violence including blood, murder of an unnamed character, and the reader being sick, as well as implied sexual encounters. Doffy flashback sections are marked between these symbols ~🦩🦩🦩~ so you can skip past them if you'd like. The chapter begins with one of these graphic memories, but ends with some Hurt/Comfort & sweet fluff!

Pairings: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader, Doflamingo x Fem!Reader (Past & Flashbacks)

Word Count: 5768

Misty Eyes Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: You try to acclimate to life aboard this yellow submarine, but your past keeps tearing you apart. All that Doffy made you do feels like a stain on your soul, and you're afraid you'll never be clean.

Author's Note: This one gets really fucked up, but I hope the sweet ending makes up for it! 🖤 I have added the dead dove do not eat tag, so please heed the warnings, and do not read if they might be triggering for you.

Thank you so much @pinejayyfor this delicious request!!

Rating/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Devil Fruit User Reader, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Angst, Pet Names, Degradation, Punishment, Emotional Abuse, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Grooming, Trauma, Past Sexual Abuse, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Donquixote Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Bondage, Dissociation, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Kissing, Shame, Blood and Violence, Vomiting, Minor Character Death, (unnamed character), Sparring, Childhood Memories, Chaste Childhood Kiss, Teasing, Tickling, Yandere Donquixote Doflamingo, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags To Be Added

!!! SPOILERS !!! This story begins during the 2 year timeskip before the Punk Hazard Arc, and there will also be spoilers for the Dressrosa Arc for backstory lore

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Another simple mission too much for you, Y/N?”

Doffy ducked a bit as he sauntered into the room, his voice making your enemy freeze with her sea prism stone blade to your throat.

“Young mast–”

Your target smirked at you, pressing the tip of the blade into your flesh, just enough to cut your words.

“Are you good and scared,” she taunted, ignoring the powerful man at her back.

Is she fucking stupid? She has to know who he is.

Doffy grinned as he moved closer, until you saw yourself reflected in his sunglasses over your enemy’s head. Neither of the menacing figures before you moved or spoke for a moment, leaving your mind in chaos.

I failed him again. He’s not helping me. Why would he? I’m worthless.

The woman chuckled, showing no fear as the future king of the pirates towered over her. Until his large hand fisted her hair, lifting her until her toes barely touched the ground. A shocked cry left her lips, her satisfied smirk torn away as she struggled to free herself.

“You really can’t do anything on your own, can you?”

Humiliation poured over you, making you wish that the blade had cut you deeper. The prick of blood on your throat wasn’t nearly enough to drown your shame.

The woman laughed, even as she struggled in Doffy’s grasp. She choked on that laughter as the blade in her hand flew toward her own neck, tugged by invisible strings.

“Wait, you said–”

Those frantic eyes had tried to look toward the young master, but her words ended as a flood of red left her throat. Doffy laughed, watching your wide eyes while the woman thrashed. The blade clattered to the floor as a rain of bright, hot blood fell upon it. He took a step toward you, letting all that cherry red cascade down your chest as you stared into the woman’s dying eyes.

She reached for you, dragging her nails across your throat.

“You’re really gonna let this trash disrespect our family? Disrespect me,” Doffy questioned, as bile rose in your throat.

“N-No, I’m sorry young–”

“Finish it. Pick up the knife, and gut her.”

The woman was still struggling, still fighting, but you knew it wouldn’t be long.

I have to prove myself.

You couldn’t move.

“Do it, Y/N,” Doffy threatened, his voice low as he shoved her closer. That hot blood poured over your face as he lifted her higher.

You fell to your knees, somehow finding the blade through the red that had covered your eyes, spitting it out of your mouth as you used the wall to stand back up.

“There you go. Prove you can do something right, Y/N.”

Blinking through the blood, you held the blade to the woman’s stomach, throwing up before you could pierce her flesh.

Doffy dropped that lightly twitching body as you started to retch, stepping back to watch you cover your enemy in your own pathetic disgrace.

Choking on sobs as your stomach emptied over the nearly dead form, you tried to wipe and hide your face. There was no way to hide from Doffy, his manic grin looming near as he crouched beside you.

“Such a pathetic sight. To think that a member of my family could fail me like this,” he tutted, ripping your heart to shreds.

“I’m so sorry, young master, I–”

Your fingers slipped in the blood and sick on the floor as you tried to push yourself up, until your body moved on its own.

No. Not on its own.

Doffy moved it, his fingers extending as he controlled you. A disgusting marionette, dripping with the evidence of shame.

“So disappointing.”

The young master’s voice weighed you down, even as he held your body up. He directed your movements, forcing you to walk as though you were proud of the sticky failure on your skin.

I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to live. I don’t deserve his love.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Y/N, hey, you’re okay–”

“I couldn’t do it, I’m too weak. I’m so sorry, young–”

Nausea tore through you, the fight to keep from being sick bringing you into the present. Into the mist. Law’s soothing voice was too full of concern, and you hated taking down your camouflage. Hated letting him see how weak you were.

“Y/N, can I check your–”

Law’s fingers were on you as soon as you nodded, slipping along the cold sweat that coated your skin as he checked your temperature and pulse.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice hoarse as if you had been sick.

His hands guided your trembling body as you sat up, your eyes caught on your own misty fingers.

Pathetic.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

A sharp laugh escaped you, flooding you with guilt. An apology died in your throat as you rubbed your hands over your arms, sliding through that layer of sweat.

“Can I take a shower?”

The “Surgeon of Death” waited outside the bathroom for you. You thought he was trying to help you feel safe by not letting anyone else in, until you remembered the concern, the pity on his face.

He’s making sure I don’t hurt myself.

You couldn’t meet his eyes as he tried to speak to you on the way to the galley, but a tiny smile broke through your heavy shame from Law’s poor attempt at small talk.

“Good morning, Y/N!” Penguin’s voice was too loud as he leaned close to grab breakfast at the counter. The stuffed penguin on his hat bobbed toward you while he spoke.

“Morning,” you greeted, with far less enthusiasm, only to be met with a small orchestra of cheerful voices calling to you, and their captain.

“Hope you didn’t mind the captain on your floor last night. He used to snore like a–”

“Penguin,” Law commanded, voice low as he gripped his crew mate’s wrist.

The man's friendly clap on your back had made your shoulders tense up, your jaw clenching as Doffy’s voice boomed through your mind.

‘Only I’m allowed to touch my little doll,’ Doffy rasped, pinching your thighs almost too hard as you sat in his lap. You tried not to stare at the blood spreading across the marble floor. ‘I don’t like to share.’

“Sure, sorry captain, sorry Y/N…” Penguin took a step back, dipping his head at Law’s frown.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, your lying smile forming so easily on your face before he led you to a table in the corner, away from his happy crew.

I’m like mist, sucking the joy and beauty out of a sunny place.

“Why don’t we skip the interview today,” Law suggested, tapping his pretty fingers on the table.

“But, don’t you nee–”

“I need you to be okay,” he interrupted, reaching those fingers to touch your wrist gently, barely, before pulling away. “Besides, I have something else in mind.”

Moving through the metal halls felt like a dream, like you’d get lost, and keep walking for years before you woke up. Until he spun the wheel to open a heavy door, leading you into the largest room you’d seen on this underwater ship.

“How nostalgic,” you teased, nodding your head toward the wall of weapons in what was clearly a training room.

“It’s been a while since you kicked my ass,” he said with a laugh, and you chewed your lip to fight your cheesy smile. He moved down the wall, pulling two daggers free before facing you. “Catch.”

“Wait,” you cried out, ready to move or mist away, but your body acted on its own. You caught the blade he’d thrown your way, gripping it as you smiled to yourself.

“I see you haven’t lost your reflexes,” he hummed, facing off with you.

“What if I had,” you scolded, your free hand on your hip.

“I knew it couldn’t hurt you. But your enemies might not,” he mused. “Why didn’t you strike? I gave you an opening.”

“What are you–” you laughed, shaking your head at him. “I’m not a fighter anymore. Besides, I don’t want to be mauled by a bear when your crew finds out I tried to attack you.”

His scowl was so sharp, you almost missed his movement. The second blade flew toward you, spinning clear with the ringing of metal as you blocked it with the first dagger.

“What the fuck, Law?”

He ignored you as he pulled a sword from the wall, striding your way with death in his eyes. Your body slid into a stance it hadn’t felt in years, and you gritted your teeth. Barely escaping Law’s attack, you used the dagger to deflect his blade as you rolled away.

“Why are–”

His sword came down over your head, and you misted out of reach, your breath heavy as anger and fear started to build.

“Law! Why–”

“Why do you keep saying you’re weak?”

You froze, unable to move as he plunged his sword through your chest, meeting nothing but mist.

“What happened to the girl that could kick my ass? Until I’d get her back, of course,” he grinned, offering his hand to help you up. Still frozen, you watched him sigh, dropping the sword as he sat down beside you.

“Why do you keep saying that you’re weak,” he repeated softly, his gaze stripping you to the bone.

“Because I am weak.”

The words held nothing but truth, a truth you’d long since accepted.

“Don’t be stupid,” he reprimanded, the insult bringing your eyes to his with a bit of shock and annoyance.

“Is that my doctor’s orders,” you growled, anger showing through your mask for the first time in ages. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you dug your nails into your shins, the comfort of the mild pain helping you stay grounded.

“Yes,” he deadpanned, your lips parting as you glared. He didn’t drop that judgemental look on his face, and it was too fucking much.

You hid the need to squirm by standing, picking up the weapons to hang back on the wall. The weight of a useless life pushed your shoulders down, until a tattooed hand touched yours, taking one of the daggers from you while you stared at the floor.

“When we were kids, you were just as strong of a fighter as I was. I don’t understand how that could change, Y/N,” he recalled, voice soft as he touched your chin. His eyes searched yours, as if you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

“I know you’re fierce. Pretty sure I’ve still got a few scars from you,” he laughed, that gentle sound making your eyes drift closed, a bittersweet smile on your lips.

“I’m not fierce,” you confessed, shivering as your skin burned where his fingers still held your chin. “I couldn’t keep up. My powers are so... I kept failing, just like they said I would.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

You almost gaped at him again, but his hand on your chin kept your jaw from dropping. Pulling away, you crossed your arms, that irritation growing.

“Your bedside manner is shit, you know that?”

“We’re not in bed right now,” he countered, his confident voice cut short by his own awkward cough as he continued. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’m not a fighter anymore, Law. I can help you with my memories, you don’t need to do all of this.” He ignored your movements as you gestured to the wall of weapons, falling back into that frown he’s so good at.

“Get over it.”

“Excuse me?”

He thrust the handle of the dagger into your palm, leaning close.

“Everyone has to pull their weight on this ship. You’re gonna shadow the crew until we find a job that suits you. You’re gonna sit with me for interviews. And you’re gonna train, just like everyone else,” he commanded, your breath catching as you felt the authority pouring off of him. His fingers were still wrapped around yours, pressing the handle of the blade into your skin.

“Do you under–”

Law grunted with more surprise than pain as your other fist connected with his face. He took a step back, scalding eyes raking over you while he rubbed his jaw, but you cut him off before he could speak.

“Gotcha, with a capital ‘G,” you declared, moving your arms with the dagger to create a poor image of the letter ‘G.’

Everything else faded from your mind as Law started to laugh, holding himself up with his hands on his knees. You couldn’t help but join him, some good childhood memories finally filling the air between you.

“Does he still do that,” he asked, still breathless as he fought the laughter.

“Lau G won’t stop doing that until he’s dead and gone.”

He leaned against the wall of weapons, shaking his head as he pulled up ancient memories.

“That old man trained both of us, Y/N. You were neck and neck with me, even though I’d never admit it back then.”

Your face grew hot, hopefully masked by the wheezing laughter you were still recovering from. But shame quickly followed the pride from his praise, so you turned away to stretch, avoiding his discerning eyes.

“Let’s start with hand to hand,” he ordered softly. You let him take the blade from you, meeting him on the mats in the center of the large, echoey room. Bouncing on your heels, you fought to keep yourself in the present.

‘Can’t take care of a single mission. I’ve never had such a failure in my family before. What should I do with you?’

‘So misty, so flimsy! You’ll never be as strong as us. I bet the young master will throw you out soon.’

‘Why don’t you just focus on being pretty, dear. I heard the young master say that’s all you’re good for.’

“I won’t go easy on you," Law's threat broke through your foggy mind. He smirked, taunting you with a tilt to his head. “Kick my ass.”

Falling into a stance without a thought, you tried to be here, to be nothing but this. You couldn’t make the first move, getting annoyed as Law feinted, tapping you here or there until you finally fought back.

There he was. That silly, angry boy with that wicked smirk. The smirk that you needed to kick off that pretty face. Two years of rivalry, two years of tiny, vicious preteens sparring daily, came flooding back as the sounds filled the training room. The sounds of fists and shins connecting with bodies, breaths and grunts, snarky remarks and laughter.

It felt like no time had passed.

Until you noticed that thought, and shame hit you just before Law tackled you, taking your breath as he rode your body to the ground.

Coming back to yourself too late, he had you pinned, unable to work your arms or legs to get out of his grasp.

“I know you can do better than that,” he teased, his black hair caught in the sweat on his forehead as he stared down at you.

“Go fuck yourself,” you breathed, still winded with his weight on your body.

“With a capital ‘G,” he smirked, too much satisfaction on his face. He laughed as you squirmed harder, trying to free a hand to punch him with.

Now you were satisfied, hearing him grunt as he struggled to keep you in place. You freed one arm, but before you could make contact, Law changed position. He caught your wrist, his breathing ragged as his face hovered even closer to yours.

The air was different, shivers running through you as your bodies relaxed into each other. The struggle halted as you felt his breath on your lips.

His eyes were wide as he took you in, his brows creasing just a bit. Your chest warmed at the memory of a childhood crush, and a quick peck of a kiss before he disappeared. That sweet memory fell apart when he pulled himself off of you, a slight frown on his lips before he turned away.

Oh.

“That’s, uh,” he started, walking away as he avoided your gaze, “that’s enough for today. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll get your schedule for tomorrow. Good work, today.”

You held up a polite smile as sharp blades of ice seemed to carve into your empty chest. Wanting Law to kiss you seemed ridiculous. Selfish. You hadn’t realized that your stupid, absent heart was so delusional. And now you knew exactly why you shouldn’t think about him that way.

He’s disgusted by me. I’ll always be tainted. Ruined. I’m lucky he hasn’t put me out of my misery yet. Why would Law want to touch trash like me?

The thoughts crashed into you, and the moment wouldn’t stop replaying. The press of him, his amber eyes, the sweat and breath mixing between you.

And that frown as he pulled away.

It played on a loop as you walked through the submarine, repeating through another shower, a nearly silent lunch in the galley, and the tour. Law guided you with a hand drawn map, labeled with the various stations, and the crew members you’d be shadowing. A detailed weekly schedule filled the back of the paper, and you let out a quiet laugh at his attention to detail.

“Do you have any questions?”

“No, teacher,” you teased, breathing deep when he finally looked at you again.

“It’s captain,” he corrected as he pointed to the schedule. “You’ll be with Ikkaku tomorrow morning, then if you’re up for it, I'd like to do another interview.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just a twitch of his lips this time, but it was a relief. Until he left you in the galley with the crew, excusing himself to complete some “captain’s duties.”

He doesn’t even want to eat with me now. I probably make him sick.

“Hi, Y/N, you can sit with me! You know, if you want to…” Bepo trailed off, flipping from excited to glum in seconds.

“Thank you, Bepo,” you agreed, donning your cheerful voice as you sat across from him.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier,” Penguin said as he sat beside you, still too close for comfort after years of Doffy’s rules. “The captain’s the only one that taught us any manners, but I guess I still need some practice.”

“It’s al–”

“Give her some space, you’re being a creep,” Shachi cut in, sitting across from Penguin as he pointed a fork his way.

“I’m not a creep, you jerk–”

“The captain said to behave ourselves,” Bepo scolded, and you found a real smile on your lips as you saw the concern on his cute, furry face.

“Hey, you’re with me tomorrow, right?”

Ikkaku waved over the bear's shoulder, her dark brown curls making her instantly recognizable. You confirmed with a nod while the three boys at the table kept bickering.

“Let’s go talk about it.”

Arguments and insults floated through the air, and you were grateful for the rescue as you joined the only other non-man on the ship. She smirked as she nodded her head toward her crew mates.

“Don’t mind the dumbasses, they’re harmless.”

“Thanks,” you laughed, your appetite returning as you watched Ikkaku take a large bite, rolling her eyes at Bepo’s table.

Comfortable quiet sat with you, and you finally felt a moment of ease in your new world. Even with Law, you felt this energy of holding yourself up, of presenting yourself how you wanted him to see you. But this relaxed woman seemed friendly as she dug into her meal, without the pressure of a smile. She didn’t watch you, or force you into small talk, even when you followed her out of the galley to point out where you’d be working in the morning.

“I’m ‘Weps,’ so I’ll be showing you how to spot and kill enemies. Hopefully we’ll always be bored,” she huffed, pointing vaguely toward her station before guiding you back to the barracks.

“That’s you, right,” she asked, tapping on your door. “I’ll yell when it’s time to go.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, staring for a moment as she turned away.

That small metal room seemed to amplify your worst thoughts, your loneliness echoing through the air like some torturous bell. You wished you had some sort of drug to knock yourself out. Instead, you curled on your side, trying not to think about how Law had cared enough to sleep on your floor last night, but could barely look at you after your near touch earlier.

~🦩🦩🦩~

“Don’t get all misty-eyed. That man should have known better than to touch my pretty doll,” Doffy declared, crouching down to press his palm into the sticky red puddle.

The blood of an unlucky man. A friendly man that tried to help you stay balanced while you walked down a flight of stairs in too-high heels.

“No one else will ever touch you,” Doffy breathed, pressing his bloody palm to your chest. He licked his lips as he dragged his fingers higher, painting your skin.

Doffy loves me. He’ll be King. Kings have to do this. They have to enforce their–

Your deep breaths and calming thoughts halted as his sticky hand gripped your face, digging into your cheeks to tilt your face up to his.

No more misty eyes.

You felt pride for your lack of tears, and for the smile he gave before he smoothed the hair from your face.

“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” he praised, his grin deepening when he heard your pleased hum. “You know I’ll have to kill you too, right? You're my doll now. Letting someone touch you with their grubby fingers, and defile my toy sounds like another failure, huh, misty eyes?”

A soft noise escaped your lips as you struggled to be strong for him.

“Well,” he seethed, the veins in his forehead bulging as he shook your face in his bloody grip, “does my pretty doll have anything to say?”

“I-I’m yours, Doffy,” you promised, keeping your eyes dry as your body went loose, leaning into his hold.

“My body belongs to you, young mast– Doffy. I’d rather die than let someone defile your property.”

A bruising kiss took your breath, and you whined for him as he laid you on the marble floor. That spill of red beside you had finally stopped flowing.

“Don’t forget that, Y/N. I’m the only one that gets to defile my pretty doll. My disgusting, little toy. No one would want to touch you anyway. Not if they knew what you let me do to you.”

Doffy laughed as he proved it to you.

And you kept your eyes dry.

~🦩🦩🦩~

Last night, your mind had chosen memories over dreams. The lights and sounds of the sonar were lovely, yet too soothing, and Ikkaku caught you shaking yourself as you held in a yawn.

“Come on,” she ordered as she pushed you out of the weapons room, leading you through the halls. You pressed your fingers into your brow, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, not realizing where she was taking you until she called through a familiar door.

“Captain, I need to report a crew member who’s unfit for duty.”

“Wait, what,” you cried out, cutting off your own yawn as she rolled her eyes at you.

Law opened the door, his eyes narrowing on you before he looked at her.

“What’s your report?”

“Y/N was doing well with sonar, but she's clearly sleep deprived. There's no yawning at my weapons station, Captain.”

Ikkaku softened her report by flashing you a tiny smile, but your shoulders slumped in embarrassment.

“Thank you for the report,” Law cleared his throat, avoiding your eyes as he focused on her. “We’ll try again tomorrow. You’re dismissed, Ikkaku.”

She patted your back as she passed, her gesture of comfort lost as your body tensed at the touch.

With a shaky breath, you turned to him, staring at his tattooed arms that flexed as they crossed below his chest.

I didn’t mind when he touched me.

That thought was bittersweet, the bitter turning to bile when you remembered him pulling away.

“Come in,” he gestured into the office, and you stepped back into your memories. A shrine to Doffy, even if it was built of hate.

“How much sleep did you get last night,” he spoke like a doctor, scrutinizing every movement as you sat down across his desk.

“How would I know? There’s no clock in there.”

Somehow, his frown deepened, and you let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you sleep at all?”

The touch of warmth in his voice filled the cold room, but you didn’t want it. You couldn’t truly have it. So you let the truth ring through your mind as you lied again.

All I am is the broken toy of the man he despises.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be okay.”

Your eyes slid away, seeing nothing as you pretended to be fine. Yet, you blinked slowly when he stood, his chair scraping along the floor before he came to kneel beside you.

Time seemed fuzzy, but after a while you heard his voice, low and steady.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Too tired and stuck for anything except for the faint quivering of your bottom lip, you stayed silent.

“Is it…” he cleared his throat, flexing his hands before he went on. “Is it alright if I hug you?”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he tried to cover his worry in a soothing tone as tears and small choked sounds left your throat. “We don’t need to–”

“Please.”

That tiny, pathetic word left your lips, and you felt sick for asking for anything. Sick for forcing him to take care of you.

But you didn’t fight as he pulled the chair out, as he knelt to the side of your knees, as he touched long fingers to your cheek.

“Is it alright if I hug you,” he asked again in a whisper. You were too weak to protect him from you, nodding slowly until you felt more of his touch.

He pulled you gently forward, your arms limp as he wrapped his around your waist, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

“You’re okay,” he soothed, sliding a palm between your shoulder blades. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Denials and arguments struggled to leave your lips, anger and fear fighting for control.

But you were so tired.

And Law felt so warm, so solid, his smell familiar, yet new. He squeezed you tighter as your breath sped up, holding you still, until you held him too.

He didn’t let go as you dripped hot tears onto his neck. He didn’t let go when you clung to him, digging your fingers into his arms and shoulders. He didn’t let go as your cries flipped from silent to pleading, as you begged for his forgiveness, or choked over the fears and shame you carried.

Through every round of emotions, you would return to guilt and disgust.

“I’m sorry, Law, I’m sick. You shouldn't be... I’m sorry you have to touch me.”

“Why are you saying that,” he nearly growled, holding your head against him to keep you from leaving his grasp.

You had no idea how long you’d made him care for you, how many tears you’d let stain his shirt. But however long it had been, you were finally able to speak some of it clearly.

“You hate him,” you said, your feeble voice breaking between your haggard breaths, “and I’m his… I’m broken. I’m disgust–”

“Shut up.”

A surprised yelp stopped your words, the force of his grip catching your breath.

Law’s fingers dug into your skin as he pressed you against him, almost to the point of pain, and your mind froze as you waited for him.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he declared, forcing the words through his teeth. “I don’t give a shit about what he did to you. I don’t care what he made you do. It wasn’t your fault, you hear me?”

There was anger in his words, but you knew it wasn’t for you. Still, you were stunned, feeling his heavy breaths beating against your chest.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, his voice cracking as he buried his face into your neck before pulling away. It was almost painful losing his warmth against you, but he took your hands in his. He seemed to be having more trouble meeting eyes than you were, and you started sinking into the chair while he cleared his throat a few times.

“When I found out that you’d… That he’d… I should have saved you, Y/N. But I decided not to care about you so I could focus on my mission. I let him–”

“Stop,” you cried out, shaking your head against the guilt in his voice. “I wouldn’t have come with you before. I don’t even know when things started to change. But I would have betrayed you. I wanted to be… I’m glad you didn’t find me sooner, Law. I just wish–”

You cut yourself off, melting into his golden eyes. A stolen moment of peace amidst the guilt and pain.

“What do you wish,” he asked, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands.

“... I don't think broken people get wishes.”

He gave a jaded laugh before standing, leaning against the desk while he rubbed his knees.

“Will it help you sleep if I stay on your floor tonight?”

You smirked at his soft words, looking from his knees up to his face before responding.

“I don’t know, old man. I don’t think it’ll be good for your joints.” The look on his face was perfect, and a real laugh left your raw throat, shaking your tired body.

“We’re the same age,” he countered, eyes wide with that manic grin, “and disrespecting your captain is a punishable offense.”

“I see how it is,” you teased, lightly poking his side. “Still can’t come up with a good comeback, so you threaten me with violence? Looks like you haven’t changed a bit, you– Law!”

He’d grabbed your wrist before going to his knees again, those pretty fingers searching your ribs for the perfect spot. You writhed and laughed, and failed to fight him off as he tickled you, the way he used to when he couldn’t outsmart you.

“Law, you–”

“Fuck, sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

Law pressed himself against the desk, still on his knees with his hands held up, his eyes wide and worried as he looked at you.

You cracked up, true, heavy laughter, until his lips curled into that evil little smirk. But you beat him to it, sliding to the ground to get him back, tickling and getting a good squirm out of him before you both attacked.

He growled as he laughed, grappling you to the side of the chair until he had you pinned to the ground again. Neither of you could tickle the other as you fought for control or freedom. His cheeks were flushed as he laughed in your face, giving you a snarky, “nuh uh,” when you failed to break loose.

His tongue pressed between his teeth as he gloated, that cocky grin fading as you melted into each other again.

“I–I’m sorry,” he sighed, shifting his weight to leave.

“Don’t be sorry,” you demanded, breathless, and aching for him to stay. “I want…”

You closed your eyes, guilt and shame sliding into your lungs again.

His weight shifted, settling back where he was before. You bit your lip when you saw him staring at your mouth, and heat filled your body as you became hyper aware of every detail of his gorgeous face.

“You want,” he rasped as he met your eyes, concern still pouring from his own.

Your words were choked by all those shitty feelings and doubts.

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

His gentle voice eased the tension in your body, and you were grateful that he hadn’t moved. That he still touched you.

He was still touching you even though you were broken.

“I want you to kiss me.”

~🖤🖤🖤~

You’d ordered the stupid boy to kiss you, your arms crossed as you tried to act like you didn’t care. He’d lost the bet, and had to do whatever you asked.

“Ew, gross! I’m not doing that.”

Law stuck his tongue out, pretending to be sick.

“You lost the bet,” you scolded, punching his shoulder. “Want me to tell everyone you’re an oathbreaker?”

“Why do you wanna kiss me anyway? I’m sick,” he questioned, a hint of hurt in his voice as he gestured to the pale spots on his face.

“I don’t care if you’re sick. I like you how you are.” The confession slipped out, and heat rushed to your face as you clamped your hands over your mouth.

“You like me,” he taunted, smirking as he poked your burning cheek. “Ha, you’re such a girl.”

“Am not,” you yelled, your hands going misty with embarrassment.

“So, all I gotta do is kiss you, and we’ll be square?”

You nodded quickly, not sure if you should trust him.

“Fine,” he complained, leaning in.

You didn’t know what the big deal was about kissing. His lips were cold and scratchy when he pressed them against yours for a few seconds, then he scowled at you as he pulled away.

“That was dumb,” he deadpanned, poking your side.

“You’re dumb!”

He stuck his tongue out at you, and you chased Law down until he swore to never tell a soul.

~🖤🖤🖤~

“Ew, gross,” Law grinned, your mouth falling open in shock.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he teased, moving his smug face closer to yours. “Kissing you sounds gross.”

“You fucking ass,” you seethed, struggling to get out of his grapple so you could punch him. “I can’t believe–”

He let out a needy sound as he crashed his lips onto yours, and you moaned against him. Your back arched when he released his hold on your arms to cradle your face.

A sob of relief escaped you, and you felt like you’d lost your mind, your hands clawing at his back to pull him closer.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. “I should–”

“No more ‘sorry's,” you ordered, “I just want you to kiss me.”

Law chuckled, his voice coming back in a wicked rasp.

“Ew, gross.”

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Sorry about the gruesome, but I hope you enjoyed the wholesome Law with his childhood sweetheart. I adore this man 🥰

Note for the timeline: The childhood flashback occurred shortly before Cora took Law away, so both the reader and Law had known each other over 2 years, and were both between 12-13 yrs old. At the present time in the story, both the reader and Law are around 25 years old.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel | @nothing-but-brass

Part 4

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