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assortedseaglass · 5 months

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Talk Refined - Chapter One

Michael Gavey x Reader

[Masterlist]

Summary: When Michael Gavey unwittingly insults a fellow Oxford student, they enter into a game of intellectual cat and mouse.

Content Warnings (this chapter in bold): Language, Smut, Saltburn Spoilers

Pool was never your forte. Truth be told, you were more of a darts girl. There was something though, in the soft click of the balls knocking together and the damp thunk of them landing in the pocket that scratched an itch on your over-worked mind.

Hilary term was coming to an end, and with it brought the dread that your extended essay title had been submitted. ‘“For the sake of some colour;” women as decoration, in response to Turner’s High Street, Oxford (1810)””. No going back now.

You’d escaped the January madness that had descended on your best friend, Esme. Like most other courses, she had exams at the start of the new year and spent her days in the library and nights in the pub. Much like now, come to think of it.

“You’re up,” you called to your friend as you missed potting a red. “Esme!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she shimmied between the pool table and a few pub patrons, taking her cue in hand and leaning over the felt green. Click, thunk. A yellow sank into the corner pocket.

“Who were you talking to?” You indicated a man in his early twenties, eyeing up Esme’s backside as she leant over the table to reach another yellow.

“Bartender,” she missed the ball and passed the cue back over the table. You took it and swiftly potted a red. “Nice one. Just borrowing this,” she lit her cigarette with a metal lighter. When she was done, she tossed it back to the bartender and he winked.

The two of you’d met at a humanities and arts, inter-college social less than two weeks into your first term. Dress as your subject and be ready for a night of frivolity even Elagabalus couldn’t imagine. You’d found some of silk scarves in a charity shop, bought cheap pearls from Primark and gone as the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Outside the Blenheim was where you first spotted her. Dressed in a bedsheet draped as a peplos, she had climbed a lamppost and was swigging wine straight from the bottle. That is a girl I want to be friends with, you’d thought, and promptly beelined for her and begged for the bottle.

“You doing philosophy?” You asked after chugging the cheap merlot.

“Classics. And you, I’m guessing history-”

“History of art, yeah.”

The next morning, you’d woken in her dorm room at Brasenose, the autumn sunlight blinding and your breath smelling as if something had crawled inside you and died there. Esme didn’t mind. Her mouth was stained red from the wine and a hickey the size of Brazil adorned her neck. You’d been inseparable ever since.

“Bollocks,” you missed potting a red and, as Esme swept to grab to pool cue, the pub erupted in song.

“RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY!”

“Ahah ahah ahaaaaaaaah!” Esme sang the refrain in your ear as she twirled you round, the cue discarded on the table.

“DO YA DO YA DO YA DO YA!?”

“Fuck’s sake,” It was hard not to smile despite your best efforts. You felt like a twat but no-one was looking at you. All were too busy singing to notice the two tipsy girls dancing by the pool table. In any case, the only person whose opinion mattered to you was the one spinning you in her arms. One wayward spin and bumped you into the pool table. Giggling, you opened your arms to be embraced once more-

“Oh shit,” Esme whispered hastily, suddenly standing straight and flattening her hair. “Got any lip gloss?”

“Erm,” you patted your pockets. “No sorry.”

“Damn,”

“Who’ve you seen?” you smirked, standing by your best friend’s shoulder and following her line of sight. Well, it could have been any number of students in the packed pub. There were some rugby lads, double polos with both collars popped. Pretty boy Felix Catton and his posse of poshos. It could have even been that girl Eleanor, now greeting a friend at the bar. Esme and Eleanor hooked up at the Brasenose Christmas party. Esme said it was “unexpected” and “not her usual flavour”, but you’d met her once after tutorial, and the way she looked at her tutor’s bottom as it wiggled down the corridor in her Peacock’s pencil skirt was not one of envy. “Well?” You asked impatiently. “Who is it?”

“There, blue check shirt, dark hair.” Esme pointed at the bar where such a man was standing. Two pints of lager in hand, he turned and seemed to look around the pub. “Cute, isn’t he? He’s at Brasenose too, doing English I think.”

“Oh right.” As a Wadham girl, you had never seen this boy before. You supposed he was quite good-looking, in a boy-next-door sort of way. You thought perhaps he would be bonny, were it not for the solemn expression on his face. He meandered through the crowd to a small table at which sat another boy.

The two were starkly different. Where Esme’s boy was dark haired, the other was fair. Esme’s boy was stocky, but even sat down the other was gangly, and while Esme’s boy clearly wasn’t an avid reader of Esquire, the blond boy looked like he’d rolled around Oxfam’s bargain bin in total darkness and worn whatever stuck; a pair of baggy cargo shorts pulled up far too high and cinched tightly with a black belt, a pair of Merrell trainers and a novelty tshirt. THIS IS HOW I ROLL. Below the wording was an anagram and equation.

If it weren’t for the middle-aged glasses and frankly atrocious haircut, he’d be quite good looking too. Two Oxford virgins; Trinny and Susannah’s wet dream.

“What’s his name then?”

“Oliver, I think.” Esme was licking her lips and fussing with her bangles.

“You look great,” you swatted at her hand. “And the other one?”

“No idea. They’re always hanging around together. Oliver,” she said his name with some uncertainty. “Oliver never says anything, the other one’s always talking a mile a minute but I haven’t really seen him about. Doesn’t go to any parties.”

“Him and the girl with-”

“Agoraphobia.” You said in unison. The characters of Esme’s college were more vivid to you now than those in a Dickens novel.

“I bet he does maths,”

“I told you, he does English.”

“No,” you tut. “The other one.”

“I reckon it’s physics.”

“Put a pint on it?”

“You’re on,” Esme smacked your hip. “Come on, there’s a table by the bar.”

Following the plume of her cigarette smoke, Esme led you to the sticky wooden table and ordered you a pint of Thatchers. She, a pint of Stella. At the table beside you both, Maybe Oliver and The Other One were talking quickly. Well, the maths-slash-physics boy was. Maybe Oliver was staring distractedly towards the other end of the pub. You looked over your shoulder. Felix Catton was settling down with another round of beers, his stupid eyebrow piercing gleaming in the low pub lights.

“Swap with me,” Esme whispered.

“What?”

“Swap with me so I can look at Oliver.”

You sighed and stood up, shuffling round the table to sit parallel to Oliver. Esme smiled at him as she sat down and he smiled back. When she giggled, you kicked her under the table. Now across from maths-slash-physics, you could see him clearly.

This close, you stood by your assessment that he could have been handsome. His light eyes were framed by not just those hideous glasses but thick, dark lashes. He had a jawline and cheekbones that would make Agyness Deyn jealous. His lips, though strangely curved were plump, and he had a distracting habit of frequently wetting them. But there was something so distinctly and undefinably creepy about him. He talked like a snake, quickly with hissed “s”s and “t”s. You noticed with unease that he barely blinked as he watched for any minutia in his friend’s reaction, and he moved with an almost jerky stiffness. All elbows and angles. This strange combination of beautiful and revolting made him impossible to ignore. Like catching yourself in the mirror after dying your hair. A strange feeling of the uncanny.

He caught your eye, sensing you staring at him, and you quickly glanced at Esme. Shit. She’d been talking to you about something.

“-of course, it’s easy to compare the Iliad and the Aeneid, but really they’re very different.”

Aha. She was trying to impress, hoping Maybe Oliver would hear. “Oh yes?” You leant forward on your arm and wiggled your eyebrows at her. “Tell me more.”

Esme was clearly delighted that you’d cottoned on to her plan. Brushing her hair from her shoulders and leaning forward too, she continued. “Well, you have to start with the language. One is Greek and one is Latin. Now, we go through this in linguistics. Everyone has to get up to speed with their Greek and Latin so we’re all on the same level-”

You giggled and she kicked you under the table. Esme knew you already knew this and didn’t care. You knew that Esme was just showboating. When you kicked her back she got the giggles and glanced at Maybe Oliver. His eyes were still trained on the back of the pub, and she sighed, taking a gulp of beer. In perfect symmetry, you drank your cider and in the lull you admired the lengths your friend went to flirt with a seemingly average boy.

“-Jameson spends the whole time staring at her tits, completely ignoring the fact she can barely do her times tables.”

Esme choked a little on her drink and your eyebrows shot upwards with barely contained glee. This was far more interesting. You and Esme watched each other, communing telepathically about the intriguing conversation between the boys next to you.

“-times tables, Oliver!”

“Told you it was maths!” You whispered at Esme. Without a word, she got up with a smile to buy you another pint.

“-just fuck off and do history of art, love, save us all the trouble!”

You stilled in your seat, cider halfway to your lips. Did he just-? You ran the sentence over in your mind. “Fuck off and do history of art, love, save us all the trouble.” It wasn’t the first time you’d encountered snobbery about your selected study. Friends from school deemed it “hoity-toity,” and even your parents had worried about your career prospects.

“But what can you actually do with a history of art degree?”

You’d thought Oxford would be different. Surrounded by other young minds, eager for knowledge and an appreciation of the world around them, freshly opened up like your first bottle of champagne; long-awaited, exciting and with a little bit of bite. Just for the adults.

“Excuse me?” Your heart was pounding in your chest as you leant over a little and smiled at the pair of boys. You were proud of your subject but that eagerness to prove its, and your, worth was impossible to ignore. Oliver and Maths Boy looked at you. “Do you,” you cleared your throat. “What’s wrong with history of art?”

The gangly boy scoffed and turned rigidly in his chair to face you. Like most other nerds, you’d expected him to shy away from anyone outside of his carefully selected circle. This boy, however, seemed to take up an enormous space in your mind. He was confident. Already taken aback by his vicious comment, that threw you even more.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s an easy option that’s become an elitist haven for the middle class.” He pushed his glasses up his long nose with a bony finger. “You ever met any of those ‘students’?” He put air quotes around that last word and you flinched, neck bristling with anger. You doubt he’d have noticed if you put your top over your head and did the Cupid Shuffle; he continued as if nothing happened.

“Load of public-school wankers spouting their useless opinions on aristocrats lounging about in gilded frames, just so they can justify getting a job in daddy’s gallery. It’s an irrelevant, niche subject for people who think their view of the world is superior to us mere plebs’.”

“Michael,” Oliver murmured. He turned to you, not quite looking you in the eye. “Sorry-”

“Here’s your pint,” Esme placed another Thatchers before you. Both you and “Michael” ignored your friends.

“You think it’s irrelevant?” You took a swig of cider without taking your eyes off him. Angry little prick, this fella. You knew the like; maths, physics, economics, law. The students were all the same. Thinking they were better than everyone else because they could swan off into the sunset with £40k job straight out of uni and reap the benefits that the arts provided them without any need to know better. The designer clothes and fast cars, the beautiful buildings they worked in, the nails on the woman ripping open the condom wrapper…

“What’s irrelevant?” Esme said brightly. She held out her hand for Oliver. “Esme, hi.”

“Oliver-”

“History of art, apparently.” You said haughtily.

“Ouch. Who said that?” Esme sat down beside you, still smiling at Oliver.

“Michael.”

“Who’s Michael?”

“Michael Gavey.” The man in question announced himself by extending a long arm in Esme’s direction. She shook his with slight shock and raised her eyebrows at Oliver. He lowered his head in shame.

“Our girl here’s a history of art student.” Esme patted your hand. If you, Esme and Oliver expected this to soften Michael, it didn’t work.

“Ah,” he smiled, mirth lighting his eyes. “That’s why you’re so tetchy. Which school was it then? Cheltenham? Roedean?”

“She went to state comp actually,” Ever your champion, Esme came to your defence.

“Scholarship student?” Michael sneered.

“No,” you rebuffed quickly.

“What’s wrong with that? Me and Oliver here are.”

“Nothing You were the one trying to get me to say it was.”

Michael smiled with satisfaction and an awkward silence fell between the four of you. The clink of glasses and drunken chatter continued around you. This wasn’t the first charged student encounter that had happened in this pub, nor would it be the last.

“I suppose you think maths is superior?” You folded your arms and raised an eyebrow. A challenge. Prove it then.

“Of course it is,”

It was your turn to scoff. “Why can’t there be room for both?”

“There is room for both. Mathematics is just more important.”

“Jesus,” Oliver rubbed his hands over his face.

“Mathematics is the foundation for everything. The modern world as we know it wouldn’t exist without it. Technology, healthcare, finance, governance, everything. It prevents chaos. Without mathematics, society would collapse.” He fidgeted in his chair to turn more vividly towards you, his hands excitedly grasping for something in front of him that didn’t exist. Maths, probably. “We create predictions and complex design systems so that life as we know it can exist, and continue to exist.”

He looked at you as though you should have been impressed. You supposed his excitement was quite sweet. In truth, you knew maths was important. History of art student though you were, you weren’t an idiot. You were at one of the world’s top universities for God’s sake.

“But what’s the point of existing if there’s nothing to enjoy? To live for?”

“Pardon?” What had he expected? For you to roll over and kiss his feet? Take him round the back of the pub for a quick knee tremble? “Oh yes, Michael, tell me more about Fermat’s conjecture! More! More!”

“Art is what makes life worth living for. Its history helps us understand politics, religions, societies and peoples of the past.”

“All that from staring at a Bruegels?” Michael looked at Oliver with a laugh, hoping for back up. Oliver was tearing up a beer mat.

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s never done anything for me.”

His arrogance and ignorance was astounding. This final comment was the drop that sent you overflowing with exasperation. “Yes it has,” you snapped. Michael glared at you. “Aside from what I literally just said, art has done everything for you. Take today for example.”

At this, Michael sat forward. He couldn’t resist a reasoned argument with concrete evidence.

“You woke up this morning at Brasenose, is it?” He nodded. “At Brasenose, in a dorm with Carol Vorderman posters on the walls, posters designed by graphic designers who studied art. Those posters line the walls of a building almost five hundred years old. From barely known architects to Powell and Moya, each added to its history with their extensive understanding of art and beauty. For some reason you then got up and decided to put on that God awful tshirt which, although many would believe otherwise, was designed to be aesthetically pleasing or visually arresting. The latter it certainly is. There you go. Art.” You were on a role.

“I’m assuming you had lectures or tutorial today? The book you read? The covers were made by, you guessed it, artists. You came here with Oliver and decided to get a craft beer because you’re a pretentious prick, and got the darker of the two because, and I agree with you here, the label is prettier. You’re gonna go home in an hour or two when you’ve had one too many pints and ogled that pretty girl at the bar,” you pointed at Eleanor. “Whose thong caught your eye above her low rises. Fashion? That’s art by the way and extremely influential on society ‘as we know it’.” You quoted him back and loved the way his lips quirked into a tight line.

“And thinking of her and her pretty thong, you’ll whack out ZOO mag and whack out a swift one over some big-titted page three girl in a pair of lace knickers that were designed by someone with a fashion degree. Art.”

Esme and Oliver stared at you. A manic, self-satisfied smile was plastered on your face, and when you downed your pint to cool down from the warmth that outpouring had exerted, Oliver actually smiled. Michael said nothing. Did nothing. He was entirely, utterly unreadable. You wanted to smack him.

He glanced from you to Esme, to Oliver and at last to his pint. Like you had done, he picked it up, finish it in three gulps and placed it back on the table. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” What the fuck was he talking about? He spoke to his friend as if you and Esme had ceased to exist. “Going for a slash. Get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.” He stood from his chair, unfurling like a stick insect, and made purposefully for the gents’.

Your mouth fell open. Esme chuckled nervously. “He’s a charmer,” she said to Oliver.

“Yeah, ‘scuse,” he muttered, shuffling awkwardly to the bar.

You both sat in your chairs, baffled silence befalling of you. “Well, no double dates for us then.” Esme said.

You laughed. “No date for you fullstop.”

“Yeah,” Esme glanced at the bar where Oliver was now waving at someone. You watched as he made his way over to Felix Catton and his friends. “Bit dull, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Oliver sat down as the rest of the posho’s table cheered. “Though if he’s friends with Felix Catton…?”

“Didn’t realise you were so shallow?” Esme teased.

“I’m not! But the parties, Esme, the parties!”

“I know, I know, I’ll remember that Christmas one forever. Oh God, here he comes,” Esme shrank in her seat. Michael was weaving through the crowd back towards the table.

“Why isn’t he going to sit with Felix and Oliver?” You whispered. “He better not be coming back here.”

You and Esme watched as his approached slowed, faltering when he noticed Oliver and his pint were missing. He glanced around, looking at his feet as if to find Oliver on the floor. It was painful. Watching the realisation dawn on his face. You and Esme knew it before he did.

A hand raised in the air; he had spotted Oliver at Felix’s table. You watched, with pity and embarrassment, as Michael waved and Oliver turned away.

“Shit,” Esme said.

Hand moving to push up his glasses, Michael, with head hung low, left.

“Shit,” Esme said again. “Bet you feel like a bitch for shouting at him now.”

And despite his pomp and arrogance, his cynicism and creepiness, you really did feel awful.

Notes: The amount of research I did for this was wholly unnecessary. Added some links because 2006/2007 was quite a place. The script hit me like a fucking train. It says, “Back with Michael: CRUSHED.”

Many thanks to @thecruel for their help with the transcript of the Saltburn pub scene, and to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for the Michael Gavey inspo, your headcanons are always spot on.

Tags: @lexwolfhale* @theoneeyedprince @lovebittenbyevans @fan-goddess @ellrond @very-straight-blog @arcielee @tsujifreya @liv-cole @myfandomprompts @annoyingkittydetective* @elizarbell @solisarium @thekinslayersswordhand @nightdiamond8663* @slowlysparklyninja* @kate-to-the-ki @bellaisasleep @xxxkat3xxx @lacebvnny @moonriseoverkyoto @ewanmitchellcrumbs @moonlightfoxx @pendragora @aemonds-holy-milk @st-eve-barnes @sapphire-writes @babyblue711 @targaryenrealnessdarling @slytherincursebreaker @bottlesandbarricades @valeskafics @anjelicawrites @exitpursuedbyavulcan @barbieaemond @chattylurker @itbmojojoejo @humanpurposes @cyeco13 @heimtathurs @in-a-mountain-pool

*could not tag

#ewan mitchell #michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #ewan mitchell x reader #emerald fennell

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mydearlybeloathed · 2 months

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: all his life, zoro had been dragging you away from danger. but sometimes, you just slip through his fingers.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x sister!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: swearing, use of Y/N, reader is zoro's sister, fluff before the angst, canon typical violence, death, can be interpreted as both anime and live action zoro, apparently all i do is angst now 🥰

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: fine line, instrumental

For as long as Zoro could remember, he��d been the one looking after you. Day and night, he watched your every move, ensuring you didn’t do anything stupid. Doing stupid stuff just happened to your favorite hobby. It was taxing keeping you out of trouble, sure, but Zoro was all you had left, so despite only being a year your elder, he took it upon himself to care for you.

But he was so young, and you were so… unhelpful.

Reckless. Wild. Unthinking. A menace, that’s what you were. Zoro could barely even blink before he was dragging you away from a cliff’s watery edge by your ear.

“But Zoro!” you whined.

“But nothing,” he gritted.

You grew more restless by the hour, it seemed, always trying to tug him along on an adventure you swore would be worth his time. Zoro relented most days, if only to keep you alive (Because he’d never admit your adventures were actually fun).

Zoro supposed your habit of wandering off wasn’t so bad. You were the whole reason he’d found the dojo in Shimotsuki Village, after all, having wandered so far you reached another end of the island for him to chase you to. Besides, he was in no place to talk; he got lost just as easily, if not more.

Difficult didn’t do the feeling of trying to keep up with you justice, and it only grew harder the older the pair of you got.

“Come on, Zoro!” you pleaded, gripping his hand.

“I’m busy,” he muttered, shrugging you off.

He spent his days studying the blade, and you were left to your own devices until an old tutor got her hands on you, teaching you mathematics and literature day in and day out. Every night before bed you complained and complained, whining that you’d much rather be running around the pastures or, better yet, training with Zoro.

But there was an ever-widening gap between you and your brother, even if you didn’t see it just yet. In your eyes, things were just the same as always, but your brother was headed on a very different path.

He would go down in history, no doubt. Your tutor and most of the village agreed. And you… well, no one knew what to make of you. You were simply there most days.

And as days came and went, Zoro paid less and less attention to you. It used to be easy to distract him into playing make believe, pretending to be pirates battling over treasure, but then he and Kuina made their vow, and Zoro threw himself further into his training.

And you, more interested in pretending than actually fighting, fell behind.

All you’d wanted to do was play with him and Kuina, but Zoro seemed adamant on being mean that day.

“We’re not playing,” he snarled back at you. “We’re training. Go play with someone else.”

You huffed and tried to stomp on his foot, missing by an inch. “Nobody here likes me! And I can train too!”

“Really?” Zoro scoffed. “You can barely even walk without tripping.”

Kuina stood off to the side, waiting for her friend to join her again, when she’d had enough of his sour tone. “Zoro, don’t be cruel.” Her sharp eyes roamed to you. “If you go find a training sword, we’ll let you come with us.”

Your whole face lit up, nodding quickly as you set off at a sprint to the dojo. Zoro groaned and turned to glare at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because,” Kuina snapped, gripping his wrist and dragging him back down the path. “Now we have a head start.”

A few minutes later, you rushed back to where you’d left Kuina and Zoro, a training sword in hand, and briefly tripped over a raised stone. When you lifted your head, smiling brightly, they were gone, far off into the forest to train alone.

Some of the other kids from the dojo walked past, heading inside, when they spotted her. One leaned into the other, whispering just loud enough for you to hear: “Pathetic. Does she not have a life?”

Your lips curled into a frown and you threw down the sword, gritting your teeth.

Zoro apologized later, of course, eventually feeling bad when he came home to find you sulking in the corner. He promised he’d teach you how to wield a sword someday, which did wind up dragging a little smile out of you. Yet, that day never came. Weeks and months went by and Zoro drifted further and farther away.

But you just couldn’t let him go, nagging and nagging and nagging.

“Can I train with you and Kuina today?” you asked, meeker than usual. You figured you knew the answer, but still, you had the nerve to hope.

But then Zoro shifted awkwardly, hesitating to answer, and you just wanted to go back to your books. You’d gotten a new one recently, about the ocean and its mystery.

“Listen,” he started. “I’ll play with you when we get back, okay?”

Your jaw set. Usually, you backed down pretty quick. You respected yourself enough to not chase after him all day. Today was different, though. Today was your birthday. “I don’t want to play. I want to train to be strong like you and Kuina.”

“Then I’ll train with you later.”

He was gone the next moment, kicking up dust as he left you all alone. You wanted to hate him, since hating was usually so easy for you, but you couldn’t.

Zoro was all you had left.

But he had someone else besides you, someone he much preferred to spend his time with: Kuina.

You found it was much easier to hate Kuina.

You weren’t at all subtle either. From little jabs to plain glaring, Kuina got the message. To your great disdain, she found it funny, cute even.

It was your obvious dislike of her that eventually brought her to give you the time of day, approaching you whilst you were reading.

“Good book?” came the voice of your arch nemesis.

Glaring up at her, you pushed your reading glasses up your nose and shifted away from her, refusing to respond.

Her breathy laugh only spoiled your evening further. “I take that as a no…?”

“Leave me alone, Kuina.”

Instead, she sat down beside you, leering over your shoulder to see what you were reading. “History? Sounds… fun.” You shifted away from her, and she followed. “Do those glasses really help?”

You snapped your book shut just as she reached to touch the page, nearly getting her finger. “I don’t know why Zoro likes you so much. You’re annoying.”

She grinned at you like you’d fallen right into her trap. “Is that why you don’t like me? ‘Cause Zoro won’t hang out with you anymore?”

As if she wasn’t infuriating enough, she was also very right. You jumped to your feet and glowered down at her. “You know what your problem is?”

She was standing in an instant, towering over you with that damn smile. “You gonna tell me, Roronoa?”

“Yeah!” You clenched your fists and grit your teeth. “You’re—You’re a brother stealer!”

“A brother stealer?” She had the nerve to laugh. “Please. We’re training to be the greatest swordsman or swordswoman in the world.”

You exasperated, “So?”

“So,” she said, “I’m not trying to steal your brother. But I can help you steal him back.”

Breathing heavily, you slowly lost your fire, confusion washing over your face. “What?”

Kuina shrugged. “I’ll train with you.”

Sputtering, “And why would I wanna train with you?”

“Because I’m the only one here who can beat Zoro.” She leveled her gaze with yours, something evil in that smirk of hers. “You wanna impress him? Train with me.”

“I…” She was serious. You’d seen the hard look in her eyes before; it’s how she looked right before she kicked somebody’s ass. You swallowed thickly. “Okay.”

That was how it started. An hour before Zoro was up, early before the sun, you and Kuina got to work. You were a tough student, with a spitfire attitude akin to your brother’s and all the clumsiness he lacked.

When you tried to quit, Kuina advanced with her sword two times as fast, forcing you to block and parry like she knew you could.

Months went by, and Zoro was all too unaware. You and Kuina had done a good job of keeping up pretenses, sharing secretive grins when Zoro’s back was turned. The one time he nearly found you out was when Kuina’s sword nicked your arm, and Zoro found you haphazardly trying to bandage it up. His line of questioning was rapid fire, panicked in every sense of the word as he did it for you.

Then, Kuina caught you by surprise; she said you were ready, and no amount of frantic head shaking would make her think otherwise.

You didn’t have a real sword, you said, showing her your wooden practice weapon as if to prove it.

She’d simply given you that damn smirk and swapped the wood for her own sword. All breath left you as she closed your hand around her family sword.

That was all the encouragement you needed, and she left you standing outside your little home to get ready for her training session with Zoro. The sun was barely peeking up over the horizon. You could barely hear the sound of Zoro rustling around inside the house behind you, and your fist tightened around the hilt of Kuina’s prized sword.

Zoro briefly wondered why you’d gotten out of bed so early when he noticed your blanket tossed aside, you nowhere in sight. You must be playing somewhere else, he decided, finally ready as he headed outside.

You were certainly not what he expected to find waiting for him. Your hands were held behind your back, your eyes ever like a does. A sigh dragged out of him as he approached you, meaning to walk right by you like he usually did.

“I’ll play with you later—”

In a blink, the shining edge of a blade was in his path. Stumbling back he followed the blade to that familiar hilt, now held by his little sister. The doe eyes were gone, replaced by a serious gaze he was unaccustomed to.

“What about now?” You retracted the sword and took a battle position, arcing the blade around before placing both hands on the hilt.

He backed away from you, crossing his arms, not wanting his hands to be anywhere near the hilts of his blades. “I’m not fighting you.”

That only spurred you on. “You don’t have a choice.”

There was a wary look in his eyes before you surged forth to begin the duel. Kuina stood off to the side, eyes alight, and helped you dust off your clothes when Zoro inevitably knocked you to the dirt in a matter of minutes.

Your chest heaved as you leaned on Kuina, eyes dangerously narrow. You refused to look at Zoro.

“You’ve been training her?” Zoro guessed, not sounding angry or frustrated… just confused, and maybe sad.

Kuina nodded. “We’ve been working, yeah. She’s good, right?”

The compliment meant nothing. Humiliation coursed through your veins, the Wado Ichimonji burning through your skin.

“Whatever,” you murmured, shoving Kuina’s sword back into her hands before stomping off into the woods.

Zoro watched you go, unable to ignore when Kuina bumped his shoulder and said, “She admires you. It’s about time you give her the time of day.”

So he trudged after you, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say.

Zoro wouldn’t say it out loud, but you were good. Far better than he remembered you being. Kuina was probably a better teacher. More patient, most likely.

But… he couldn’t help but wish it’d been him to train you up to be able to wear him out like you did. Zoro swallowed that thought and settled on finding you first, and having regrets later.

He found you sitting on a patch of grass, wiping at your damp face. Zoro made you cry. and he had the sense this wasn’t the first time.

Some brother he was.

So he ditched his hesitation and settled down on the grass beside you, testing the waters. You didn’t sprint off into the brush, so he took that as a good sign.

“What do you want?” you said first.

“I… You did well. Really well.” He pulled at some grass, ripping it apart. “I’m sorry I’ve been…”

“An asshole?” you supplied. “A major dick? A stick in the mud?”

Zoro huffed a laugh. “All of the above?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, turning away, going serious again. “I didn’t beat you.”

“Did you expect to?” Your huffy silence was answer enough. “Y/N, I’ve been training for years.”

Your eyes found him then, all slits and sadness. “And I haven’t, yeah, I know. Why’s that, ya think?”

He ruffled slightly. “You could have joined us in the dojo.”

“Like hell I could have. I’ve said it before—those kids don’t like me. Besides, it’s your thing. You would have found some reason I should quit.”

Did he really make you feel that way? Zoro felt it was fair, all the times he’d brushed you off coming to mind, and he grimaced. Then, he started to think. “Why do you want to learn to fight? I didn’t think that was your thing.”

You took your time to answer, tugging at your own grass and tossing it into the wind. “I hate being left behind. I thought if I could impress you, you’d… you’d play with me again.”

Hearing that made Zoro feel so much worse. The pair of you might be getting older, but at the end of the day, you just wanted to be around him. Zoro let the silence hang in space between you for a few moments, before he rolled to the side and swiped a long stick on the ground.

Your confused eyes followed him, widening when he pointed the stick at you. Zoro grinned and started to poke at you, causing you to scramble back on the grass.

“Stand and fight, pirate!” he bellowed.

Immediately, you jumped to your feet, an exhilarated smile popping onto your face. You dodged left and took up your own stick sword, holding it in front of your face as you circled your brother.

Who were you today? A fellow pirate? A pirate confronting a marine admiral? Perhaps you were brother and sister pirates, crossing paths after years of pursuing the other for vengeance. Whatever make believe you and Zoro were in today, you relished in it, knowing someday you’d have to accept the fate of growing up.

So for now, you fought your brother in the only way you were equals: pretending, your imagination spinning circles around his as his skill spun around yours.

Zoro had missed you, he realized. Being so caught up in being better for you, in being the one to make you proud, he forgot how fun simply existing alongside you could be.

So he followed you deep into the woods, tripping over his own feet and grunting at your lofty laughter. You led him up hills and through brush, up trees and back down, and all around the island till Zoro couldn’t help but wonder what exactly you saw in the forest that he didn’t.

“That girl is wild,” your tutor said once. “It’s like she’s more at home in the trees.”

She said it in some kind of scornful way that mothers do, when they’re half upset and half in reluctant wonderment. He had to agree with the old woman, for if Zoro couldn’t find you, chances were he’d discover you in the forest, atop a rock or up in a tree.

Oftentimes, if it wasn’t Zoro clinging to the lower branches while you laughed at him, Kuina was with you. Neither of you had ever wanted for a sister, but neither of you were exactly complaining either.

Zoro stood with his hands planted on his hips, head tilted back and still not exactly able to see where you and Kuina sat giggling amidst the branches of the ancient oak tree.

“Y/N!” he shouted, hoping his voice would at least reach you. “Come down!”

“No!” you laughed back down. A few leaves trickled down, and a pang jerked Zoro’s heart around. How high up were you?

“It’s not safe!”

Kuina rolled her eyes. “Says you! We’re fine!”

He hardly believed her, his nails starting to dig into his palms. “C’mon! It’s gettin’ dark!”

You looked toward the horizon line, spotting the sun just as she dipped behind the mountains. Instantly, you were entranced, aching to join her. The wind whistled in your ears, as it often did, and you leaned forward just a bit.

“He’s right,” Kuina huffed. “My dad will be mad if I get home after dark.” When you didn’t reply, she tried to catch your faraway gaze. “Y/N?”

Despite your hummed acknowledgment, your eyes were shut, a pleasant grin pulling at your face. Air tickled your cheeks, ruffling your hair, sending you the scent of miles away cherry blossoms.

You could have sat in that tree all night and into the next, but Kuina was tugging on your arm, dragging you out of the moment. You blinked like you were awakening from a deep slumber. “Sorry, what?”

“It’s time to go home,” said Kuina.

“Oh. Right.”

You descended the tree without much thought, finding purchase for your feet and hands to grip as if the tree was reaching out to catch you, whereas Kuina very nearly fell to the ground more than once. Zoro awaited at the bottom of the tree, arms crossed and brows taut.

He watched as you grinned, eyes somewhere else entirely, and trotted back to the village all merry-like. Kuina plopped to the grass beside him, teetering on her feet before he caught her arm.

“Thanks,” she sighed. “I don’t know how she does it so naturally.”

Zoro thought back to what the old tutor once told him. It’s like she’s more at home in the trees. “I dunno. It’s… cool, though.”

You were cool, he meant to say, but wouldn’t ever say it out loud. His little sister, who could catch fish with her bare hands and find four leaf clovers like they were nothing, was very much cool in his eyes.

He thought it again that night, when Kuina joined them for dinner with food her father had prepared, and you lurched forward to tuck a forget-me-not behind Kuina’s ear.

“These don’t grow on the island,” Kuina pointed out. You simply grinned, like you had some secret nobody else could understand.

Kuina became just as important to you as she was to Zoro. Which is why her accident was such a travesty.

Out of the whole entire village, it hit Zoro the hardest. You would know his look of pure, unadulterated shock till the end of your days. Zoro was beside himself, and you were no better. With your only other friend gone, you had no one to lean on.

Zoro only thought of the blade—of his vow to Kuina—leaving you to mourn and dwell and be all alone. You tried to be bitter, you really did, even going to the lengths of hiding all his clean clothes just so he would talk to you, but you were still terrible at being angry with Zoro. (When all Zoro did was exist in his dirtier-by-the-day clothes, you didn’t know whether to be angry or just plain sorry for him. You settled on both).

You tried to confront him, talk to him, anything, but all he’d done was sigh and say, “Just… go read, or something. It’s good for you.”

Like you’d listen to a word he said… but reading was all you could do. It was how you winded up back on your tutor’s door step with a ducked chin and folded arms. She pursed her lips, setting a hand under your chin, cupping your face as she beckoned you inside. Each day you poured over texts and tomes till Shimotsuki Village was completely dry of new literature.

The old woman taught you till she died. Despite how life had fled your eyes, she called you Wild till her last day. “You can’t stay,” she said in her dying breath. “Wild things never last here.”

Like you’d ever think of leaving Zoro.

But soon came the day when Zoro, like you, could learn no more from that village. You assumed the pair of you would set out together now that your paths led you away from home. Zoro had other plans.

Three swords rested at Zoro’s hip, one heartachingly familiar with its white hilt and glimmering blade. He was hunched over a bag, collecting supplies from your little home.

“So that’s it?” you spoke into the tense silence. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to fulfill my promise to…” He didn’t finish, her name hanging in the air. “We always knew I’d leave one day.”

“And what about me?” you demanded, daring him to admit he was abandoning you.

Instead, he closed his satchel and stood, back still facing you. “Sensei promised he’d look after you.”

“Even if I wasn’t already an adult,” you snarled. “I don’t want your sensei. I want my brother.”

Your eyes glistened with tears behind your readers, still sat on the bridge of your nose from where you’d been annotating the last of your tutor’s dusty books. He glanced up, catching your eye, and immediately returned his gaze to the floor.

“I need to become the world’s greatest swordsman,” Zoro said as he walked past you, brushing shoulders with you before he stopped just at the door. “For Kuina. And I need to do it alone.”

Catching your breath, you shook your head at him. “No. All my life I’ve been so patient with you. I’ve forgotten every time you forgot me, everytime you were mean to me—I let it all go! You—You don’t get to let me go. That’s not how this works, Zoro!”

You felt hysterical, tears streaming down your face. And all Zoro could do was stare at the ground.

“You’ll understand someday.”

Hot anger boiled beneath your skin, making you warm all over. Your cheeks burnt and your hands balled into fists. You folded your arms over your chest to keep from lashing out at him with the fury of a sister scorned.

You would never understand.

He breathed shakily. “I… love you, Y/N.”

It was like a bullet to your heart. You peered over your shoulder to find his back just over the threshold of the door, one hand on his three swords and the other rested on the doorframe. You hadn’t stood up to Zoro in many years, mostly because he hadn’t given you reason to. Until now.

“You really are stupid.”

“Y/N—”

“Don’t waste your breath,” you snarled, sweeping over to your desk and grabbing your ready-and-packed satchel. Wiping your nose and eyes on your sleeve, you steeled yourself and swallowed up all your cries. “Where are we headed?”

You turned, adjusting the satchel on your shoulder, and lifted your gaze to your brother, who had turned to stare at you. Faltering, you tried to gauge what Zoro was thinking, what had always been an impossible task. Zoro had never looked at you like this before, his eyes void of any hostility or pity or annoyance. For a moment, he wasn’t an apprentice or a swordsman, nor was he Kuina’s legacy.

He was Zoro, the brother who could have hung the stars with how much you believed in him.

And for a moment, Zoro wasn’t looking at his baby sister, helpless in every sense of the word, desperate to prove herself—Zoro saw what Kuina had, once upon a time; a warrior more mind and spirit than strength, the force of a thousand soldiers behind her puffy red eyes.

It was terrifying, to say the least. You weren’t so little anymore, and he didn’t feel so big anymore.

“First,” he grumbled. “We’re getting you a sword.”

Your eyes shined, not from tears (he was glad you still had your wonder intact). “And second?”

“We’re going after Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordsman in the world.”

Standing at the docks a while later, preparing to depart, you nudged his shoulder to catch his fleeting attention. The silence had been tense all evening. Your grin was soft and unsure as you mumbled, “I love you too, by the way.” Zoro ruffled, nodding, and you pressed on with a smirk. “You’ve never said that to me before.”

“Sure I have,” he countered, but you shook your head.

“Nope. Never. But that’s okay.” You turned to stare at the ground, the captain of the ship taking you away starting toward the pair of you. “I’ve never said it either.”

And in the underbelly of that big merchant ship, sitting on the small cots allotted to you for the journey, you lifted your gaze to lock him in place. “Let’s make a promise.”

Zoro stilled, setting his swords beside him as he met your gaze. He wasn’t opposing the idea, so you pressed on, presenting your pinky to him. Zoro had the nerve to scoff. “Don’t laugh. This is a sacred ritual.”

Rolling his eyes, Zoro rested his arms on his knees, reaching to interlock his pinky with yours. A smile tugged at your face. “What’s our promise?”

You hummed, not having thought that far ahead, before getting excited again. “I promise to stay by your side. No matter how much of an idiot you are.”

For a while, he said nothing, staring at your hands in the space between you. He started to speak, thought better of it, before pressing on. “That’s a big promise. Sure you won’t change your mind?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “If I do, I’ll just break my pinky.”

He blinked, trying hard not to let his smirk through, and he laughed despite himself. “Fine. I promise I won’t abandon you. Ever. No matter how much a menace you are.”

Satisfied, you retracted your pinky, letting your eyes flutter shut. You yawned and laid on the less than comfy cot, and were out like a light in minutes. Zoro stayed awake at your side all night, hyper aware of every motion all around, threatening each thing that creeped in the dark recesses with a single glare.

For you, this was a dream. The world was your playground, an adventure just like the ones you’d read about. On the contrary, Zoro was stressing. You had this penchant for getting into trouble, always finding danger wherever you went.

Tiffs between you and your brother were never far away, but unlike when you were younger, these fights lacked a certain fire, almost as if neither of you cared to pick at the other anymore. That realization was odd, to say the least. It was almost like the pair of you were growing up.

Word quickly spread across the East Blue about the Pirate Hunter Zoro, so deadly they took to calling him a demon… and then there was you. People tended to ignore girls, looking over your head and not caring to lower their voices when you lurked nearby. You were Zoro’s main informant, picking up on locations and secrets before your targets had any clue they were being hunted.

And as weeks flew by, you and Zoro found a new kind of camaraderie; respect. After years, it looked like Zoro was finally respecting you as an equal. As a friend.

You had quite the temper, never backing away from a threat, mostly because you knew your big brother was behind you. You don’t like the price for those apples? The vendor isn’t willing to barter? You're cursing their mother and demanding a fair price, and just as the vendor is reaching for a knife there appears this giant of a man, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. You always get the price you want.

Zoro liked to shine and sharpen and clean his swords himself, but one day he was so tired he fell asleep while doing the first one. He woke up to all three glittering up at him. You said it was no problem, and went out of your way to get to the task before he did each time.

Your habit of climbing trees returned, and with it a newfound love for scaling buildings as well. Zoro’s not sure how he doesn’t have a head full of gray hairs, but he feels for sure it's coming.

Still, despite your insistence on remaining a menace (he’s certain it’s on purpose), Zoro was happy you’re with him. Things nearly reached a new kind of normal; he hunted the pirates, you helped him, you both got paid.

But he saw how restless you became, always itching for the next adrenaline hit. Somewhere inside, Zoro feared the day you’d get so restless you turned back to recklessness. Mostly, he feared he wouldn’t be there to save you in time.

Zoro’s footsteps were ghostly, not a sound coming from him as he slinked up the gangway of the little pirate ship. His bandana was tight around his head, two of his swords brandished and at the ready. On his left, a pirate stood guard and was swiftly knocked out by a blow to his skull.

A routine operation, sure to bring in enough beri to get you and Zoro to the next island over. Maybe you’d even have enough left over for some decent food, he pondered, turning and laying eyes on the door to the lower decks.

It should have been a routine operation, but the moment he stepped into the winding halls of that ship, the pirates were all over him, coming at him left and right. They drove him back up to the main deck, landing blows against his three swords yet never getting through his defenses.

But if he stayed on the defense, he doubted he’d actually find an opening to get the hell outta there. Zoro swiped his swords in an arc to drive the horde of them away just long enough to make a break for the docks, but a gunshot rang true, whizzing past his head before he could take a step.

He whipped around and found the man he’d intended to murder in his sleep, and drag his body back without ever alerting the crew. The captain reloaded his pistol, a maniacal grin splitting his face.

“Roronoa Zoro,” the man drawled, stepping down from the stern of the ship. “Your reputation precedes you.”

He blinked up at him, readjusting his hold on his swords. “Sorry, who the fuck are you?”

The smile dropped instantly. “Only the man who will end your sorry life, pirate hunter.”

Zoro scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.”

He heard it, but it was so soft he tried to convince himself he was delusional; but then it got louder, till he heard the sound of feet bounding up the gangway as his blood ran cold, and there you were, shouting his name, your sword held before you.

“Zoro,” you gasped, ignoring everything else as you gazed upon him with wild eyes. “It’s—It’s a trap.”

The captain’s laugh was like a ringing in his ear. Zoro’s stare was zeroed in on you, begging you to run away, horror flooding his senses. No. No. No.

“A little too late, kid,” the captain bellowed, slinging around his pistol and eyeing you predatorily. “Here to die with the hunter?”

Zoro’s heart dropped when you spat at the ground, shooting the captain a glare. The man growled, nodding at his awaiting crew. “Take care of her. I’ll take Roronoa.”

You had lunged before Zoro could do a thing, clashing your blade against your opponents and dodging each strike with ease. Zoro made to run to you when a sword swiped through the air and caught his arm, forcing him to face the captain of the ship.

A routine. This was meant to be a routine. You were meant to be safe at the little inn, awaiting his return with a gripy comment about having woken you up, despite knowing fully well you’d been up the whole time.

But you were here, fighting for your life against ten or so men twice your size. You could only hold them off for so long. Zoro set his jaw and set his third sword between his teeth, taking on the slimy excuse for a captain.

“Y/N!” He shouted, muffled around the hilt of his blade. “Get out of here!”

“No!” you shouted right before wincing as you took a wrong step and twisted your ankle, attempting to walk it off as you evaded being skewered.

His eyes followed you, spying a pirate jumping down from the stern. Zoro sprinted away from his own fight, vaulting over you and decapitating the pirate, landing on the deck in a roll. You heaved, awestruck, and giggled despite it all.

Zoro stood, eyes dark as a demon’s, and looked right at you. It was as if the sun was held captive in your eyes, even now. A spot of blood seeped into your shirt, and he parried three men’s attacks to reach you. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you snapped, your back to Zoro’s as you drove back another blow. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known something was up.”

“Don’t—” he kicked a guy to the side “—Don’t be. Just—”

He whirled on you as you let out a whimper, now clutching your shoulder. In a flash, Zoro severed the arm of the man who’d hurt you, letting you lean against him for a moment. Maybe four men were still standing, yet the captain had gone out of sight. The coward.

His heart raced, the sound of it blaring in his ears and making it hard to gather his wits up off the ground. Zoro could barely breathe, but he managed to berate you still. “Stay down. I’ll handle this.”

You glared up at him, your eyes going wide a moment later. Your hands landed on his shoulders and pushed him down with all your might, and he keeled over, not expecting it. He rolled to the side and stood, taking out another pirate by his leg in the process, and whipped back around to yell at you.

But… something was wrong. You teetered precariously on your feet, and your face was all scrunched up, and why were you clutching your chest like that? Was there that much blood on your shirt before?

Even when he saw the captain standing behind you with a bloodied sword, Zoro couldn’t believe what he was seeing. If anyone had seen what happened next, they would understand precisely why Roronoa Zoro was compared to a demon; the three remaining men and their captain were dead before you ever hit the deck.

Zoro fell to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground as he scooped up your head and held you to him. Your name fell from his trembling lips, his wide eyes pleading with yours to stay open. You were fading before his very eyes, the sun behind them setting fast.

“Hey,” he stammered. “Hey, don’t go—you can’t. Remember? You don’t get to leave. That’s not how this works. That’s what you said.” You smiled up at him, and it all got infinitely worse. “Stop being—stop being stupid. You’re not dying. Get up.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered as black fuzz clouded your vision. “I’m… okay…”

You went limp in his arms. His tears didn’t make a sound, nor did he as he carried your body back to the inn, passing the innkeeper solemnly, and laid you down on the bed. He stood guard at your side till morning, and he went back for the body of the pirate captain, cashed in the bounty, and made preparations to go back home.

Your grave sat beside Kuina’s, on a nice ridge overlooking the village. The sunset in beautiful from up there.

The demon pirate hunter roamed the East Blue without an ounce of mercy, earning himself his title and reputation once and for all. No one ever dared to trap him again, not after they heard what happened to the last guys who tried. The whole crew died in twenty minutes, is what they said.

He barely spoke to anyone besides a bartender, becoming more specter than man. His eyes always had this dark tint to them, a haunting behind them that struck fear into the very soul of anyone who looked into them.

And he liked it that way. He didn’t need anyone getting a closer look at him, not when everyone he ever cares about winds up—gone. He swore he’d never let anyone get close ever again. It was safer that way.

No one touched his swords. No one so much as brushed past them without getting an earful. Only he ever cleaned, shined, or sharpened his blades. He claimed no one ever did it right.

In truth, the demon pirate was getting sloppy, as much as he hated to admit it. He had a mission to complete, yet each day grew more difficult than the last. He took on bounties without much thought, fought anyone who spared him a glance.

Reckless. He’d grown reckless.

It’s what led him to Shell Town. What led him to that restaurant. What led him to defending that little girl and her mother (he sees you in every child with just an ounce of wonder). It’s what brought him here, tied to this post under the blazing sun, starving and thirsty, and he felt deserving of it.

But he couldn’t die here. He’d let one promise be broken. The other would be fulfilled. He just had ten more days left, then he’d be on his way. Surely, Hawkeye Mihawk can’t hide forever. Then, after… he could rest. Only then. Only then.

“They say you’re a bad guy.”

Zoro frowned, lifting his eyes from the dirt, squinting through the blinding sun to make out who stood before him. Their outline came first, a boy, with something on his head. He blinked a few times and took in this kid who dared to step into this yard.

He looked him up and down, took in the straw hat on his head, shielding the kid’s eyes from the sun. Yet, somehow… despite the shade being cast on his face, there was a bright glow in his complexion, but Zoro couldn’t decide where it was coming from (he refused to admit it was coming from his eyes).

This kid had the nerve to smile at Zoro, giving him the sense that maybe they had met before. Why else would that unrestrained, recklessly true smile make Zoro’s heart stop?

(Zoro would only let himself think it some weeks later, when he’d long since accepted the offer of first mate, and long since the Straw Hat pirates found a ship of their own—Luffy reminded him of you, as terrifying as that was).

(Maybe he would let one, or two, or however many people were on that ship get close. Just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to try).

“Zoro!” Luffy called, racing toward the afterdeck in search of the mossheaded swordsman. He jumped to a stop, finding Zoro sitting under the tangerine trees, slowly peeling one in his hand. “There you are! What’re you doing?”

He barely cast him a glance. “Trying to be alone.”

Luffy laughed at that, plopping himself down next to Zoro. “Me too.” He reached up a rubber hand and swiped a tangerine, only thinking how odd it was a moment later. “Hmm, Nami would normally skin us for eating her fruit.”

Zoro stilled before popping a slice into his mouth. “She said it’s fine. As long as I’m alone.”

The captain tilted his head, skeptical as he slowly chewed a piece of his tangerine. “Why?”

Luffy received no answer, not right away, not until Zoro finished his tangerine and set the peel in front of him to dispose of later. And Luffy waited, shredding his peel into lots of pieces just for the fun of it.

“I had a sister,” Zoro finally confessed, causing Luffy to freeze up. “It’s her birthday.”

So many questions bubbled under the surface. Why hadn't he mentioned her? Why hadn’t Luffy met her? What’s her name? Does she have green hair too? But… Zoro’s solemn expression had Luffy falling silent, watching his face carefully.

No explanation came, but Luffy gathered the gist of it. Whoever this sister was, she wasn’t around anymore. “Do you… still want to be alone?”

Zoro hesitated, hands squeezing his knees tightly, his throat gone dry. “No.”

“Okay,” Luffy smiled softly, plucking his hat from his head and setting it on Zoro’s, slightly missing the mark and pushing it down over his eyes.

The swordsman huffed a laugh, peeking out from under the hat. “What’s that for?”

Luffy shrugged. “Dunno. The hat makes me feel better.”

Zoro shook his head, gazing softly upon his captain before adjusting the straw hat on his head and shifting to stare at the sea. “Thank you, Luffy. For everything.”

“No problem, Zoro. Hey, do you when dinner's ready?"

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @raspberrymuffings you mentioned big bro zoro A WHILE ago on my sanji's sister fic

#zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #reader insert #female reader #opla!zoro x reader #shimotsuki kuina #kuina x reader #x sister!reader #x sister reader #zoro x sister!reader

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dear-bunnyboo · 11 months

Note

hey!! I absolutely love your fics 💕 can I please request for you to write a crossover fic. Like, it begins with y/n and her relationship with either Trevor or Jack and he cheats with y/n and their breakup is very public cause y/n is famous and then it skips months later and she is spotted joe burrow and rumors go around that they are dating!!! I would love for this idea to turn into a one shot or better yet a SERIES!!

been loving the requests i am getting lately and this might top everything… love a good crossover between two worlds!!!

important note: my face claim will be madison beer but you can imagine whoever you desire. also the songs mentioned are not all technically all madison’s i will be incorporating other songs from other artists.

all the pictures seen below are not mine, however they were edited by yours truly. credits to the owners.

short fic! this will be a prologue before everything starts and no Joe in this one— not yet anyway. i want to build the story first before they finally meet ;)

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 || 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader / Brief Ex!Jack Hughes x Singer!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: A three year long relationship between your long term boyfriend, hockey star Jack Hughes meets its very public end.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, cursing, cheating, emotional breakdown, cheater!Jack Hughes, media, paparazzi, haters, gossip, rumors

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐜. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 || 𝐍𝐇𝐋 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Numb

You felt numb.

Yet why do you feel— Pain?

then— Sadness,

Betrayal,

and, Anger.

Heartbreak was strange.

A strange feeling that makes you feel so much.

Your heart was shattered to pieces, with no idea on how to piece it back together— it was broken.

Yet, you felt every single thing.

Every emotion. Every frustration. Every regret.

You sat on your kitchen floor with your phone clutched in your hands. Your tears slowly yet surely dropped on the lit screen as you remain motionless.

Today was an extremely busy day for you.

You spent almost the entire day in the studio preparing for your upcoming album.

You loved your job.

You loved it so much, you wouldn’t let anything distract you when you are in the middle of either recording, producing or writing lyrics— which is why you had your phone off.

Your phone remained off till you gotten home and opening it back up was the worst thing you could have ever done.

The first thing you noticed was the flood of notifications you have received— social media notifications from Twitter to Instagram. Then there was the messages from your friends, family, and your team— missed calls left and right.

Before you could even try and process what was going on, your manager sent you the same link everyone has been sending you for God knows how long.

Your fingers acted on their own accord and before you knew it, the video played.

It was Jack. Jack Hughes was your boyfriend of three years— you met Jack at one of his hockey games where he managed to ask for your number right after.

The rest was history.

And it seems like it would remain a history.

Your couldn’t pry your eyes off your phone screen. The video showed Jack with a blonde woman— this would normally not bother you. You trusted Jack.

You really shouldn’t have.

Before you could blink the pair were making out.

Your heartbeat was beating just as fast as your fingers were— moving to click another link.

It was another video where the woman was seen climbing onto his car covering her face because of the paparazzi that was surrounding them.

You were so focused on your phone that you didn’t even realize that you have slid down the kitchen wall landing yourself in the ground.

Articles after articles are being sent to you.

‘Y/N Y/L/N and Jack Hughes in Splitsville’

‘Was Y/N Y/L/N cheated on by beau Jack Hughes?’

‘Is it the end for Jack Hughes and Y/N Y/L/N after three years?’

He cheated.

Paparazzi saw him cheating.

He was kissing another woman.

You didn’t know what to do.

So you did the only thing you knew was right to do.

Opening your phone back up, you sent every video link and article link to Jack and after making sure he has seen it you blocked and deleted his number.

He cheated on you.

Yet it hurt to even delete his number.

He cheated on you.

Yet looking at the messages of his brothers and close friends to you pained you.

“Y/N, i have no idea why Jack would do that. Are you ok? Text me back please.” From Quinn.

“Y/N? I’m so sorry. Idk what has gotten into him. Please reply.” From Luke.

“I’ll fucking kill him. Y/N? Please answer my calls!” From Trevor.

You looked at the messages, numb— numb yet in pain.

You weren’t only mourning your three year relationship that Jack just ruined but you also grieved the friendships you knew would never be the same again.

Quinn and Luke were Jack’s brothers first and foremost. They might’ve not known or not agree and side with him but they’ll be forever be associated with him— Trevor was his best friend, almost his brother.

It would never be the same again.

And you hate Jack for that.

You hate that you love him enough to hate him.

You hate that he made you feel so much in so little time— so much that you felt your heart explode into pieces, it couldn’t take it.

You hate that you know it will take you years to recover from this.

You hate that he had to embarrass you in front of the whole world.

You hate him cause he’s making you doubt your self worth.

You hate him for being selfish.

He is selfish.

Selfish.

You hate him for being reckless with your heart that you willingly entrusted to him.

He is reckless.

Reckless.

Wiping your tears of your face you silently walked to your room— grabbing your pen and notebook.

Selfishly Reckless

Too Damn Selfish

Reckless with my Heart

Selfish.

Reckless.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･

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─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

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iww-gnv · 10 months

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This is part of a series of frank accounts of the strike from Hollywood writers at different levels in their careers. I guess the AMPTP forgot the first lesson privileged parents quickly learn: Do not short-change The Nanny. Carol Lombardini did just that, and now SAG-AFTRA will strike. First, let’s rewind: The pavement was as hard as it’s ever been. The heat, unbearable. Numbers, thinning. The loneliest place on earth, the picket line by Universal’s Main Gate — where the sidewalk literally fucking ends. Paramount was all airpods and sunburns. (Some gracious restaurant handed out lemonade. God bless them.) Even the family-friendly line at Disney felt a little like a chain gang. Not gonna lie, we knew it would be hard. But by day 72 our souls were cracking. The distant horizon of the strike loomed long and large. But then the AMPTP fucked up. Big time. Quite possibly the stupidest exec in the business fed Deadline the most monstrous article, in which they finally let the mask slip and said the unsayable: Let the writers starve. “It’s been agreed for months,” the anonymous source confessed. The studios want to break the WGA, drag this out until the writers are “losing their homes.” “A cruel but necessary evil” to protect their bloated, unjustified C-suite compensation. Those are real quotes. Even Marie Antoinette winced. Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb. Writer Twitter lit up with rumors of a morning-after Zoom where screaming studio heads pointed fingers at each other. Whatever moronic flack allowed that to happen will soon be living thousands of miles from Los Angeles, probably printing up flyers offering 2-for-1 Blizzards at the Bangor, Maine, Dairy Queen. The fun, new parlor game on the picket lines this week is guessing who was dumb enough to say the quiet part out loud. But thank you, whoever you are. Because those quotes turbocharged us. They reminded every writer why we’re doing this. Why we can’t give up — and now, you better believe there is not a single writer who doubts this is possibly the most important strike in the history of our craft and our industry. Nothing unifies like a Big Bad. Nothing makes heroes like an unrelenting villain.

#sag aftra #wga #unions #hollywood #news

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hyperactively-me · 8 months

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king!ghost x reader -- lessons

more of a filler, but doesn't make it less important!

Many weeks have gone by since you married King Ghost. You were finally somewhat settled into a normal routine after Ghost had assigned a personal advisor and tutor to you, teaching you the political atmosphere of Kastron.

Though you had once been an outsider to the kingdom’s politics, you now held a newfound responsibility of being queen. As a child, you were only taught how to be a homemaker, with the occasional sparse political lesson. Ghost had made sure to oversee your education of his kingdom. His guiding hand, however, had made this transition a little less daunting.

He had appointed you a personal advisor, Sir Mark, a seasoned statesman with a wealth of experience. A kind woman, Lady Daphne, served as your tutor in matters of economics and governance. Your days now unfolded within the quiet confines of the palace study, immersed in books and the wisdom of your teachers. The political landscape of Kastron, with its intricate alliances and history, unfolded before you, leading you to understand the complexities of the kingdom as a whole. Matters you were once ignorant or unknowledgeable about soon became clear to you.

Surprisingly, you found it all fascinating. The art of diplomacy, the complexities of governance, and the lineage of Kastron's rulers were all smaller parts playing in the larger picture of today’s current political state. Sir Mark patiently guided you through the labyrinth of politics, teaching you to navigate its treacherous waters. Lady Daphne, with her encyclopedic knowledge, brought light to the finer points of economic policy and governance.

Yet, Ghost's influence extended beyond the realm of politics. Thankfully, he believed that a queen should be more than just a mother or a diplomat; she should be a protector of her kingdom. He continued to oversee your instruction in the art of swordsmanship. At first, it was daunting, but your determination matched Ghost's patience, and you soon became a formidable swordswoman after many long days of training.

But it wasn’t all study and training. After the confrontation in the dining room, you both mutually decided to get to know each other in a more civilized manner. You began to spend more of your down time with Simon, showing him little bits and pieces of what you liked, who you are, and vice versa. Over the next couple of weeks, you spent days riding horses through the realm, letting him show you the terrain.

Evenings were reserved for games, typically card games, or reading. In a dimly lit chamber, you and Simon challenged each other with your mutually competitive natures. His laughter, a rare sound, echoed through the room as you battled for a win over card games. And every night, he would walk you back to your quarters, ensuring you got to bed safely.

Amidst your busy schedules and activities, you found moments of quietness with him. You would sit with Simon, talking about everything, small or large. The man who had once been a distant and stoic figure now confided in you, his trust a precious gift. Slowly but surely, you began to warm up to him, seeing beyond the enigmatic facade of Ghost. You started to let your guard down as you started to see him for who he is, slowly letting him in.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you underwent a transformation. No longer an outsider, you emerged as a queen in the making with a deep understanding of Kastron’s politics.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme

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saerins · 5 months

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⋆୨ chapter two ୧˚ a million miles away, still you connect me in your way

⋆୨ if not for you (masterlist) ⋆୨ previous: chapter one - thorns without flowers, bars with no drinks <> next: chapter three - for a while, you were all mine ୧˚

⋆୨ synopsis ୧˚ neither of you want this. both you and sae reluctantly agree to this marriage, although sae’s dissatisfaction far outweighs your own. with hidden agendas and old flames, will this ever work out between the two of you, or will your forced spark be doomed to fail?

ೀ series: sae x f!reader | wc 3.8k | ೀ content warnings: fluff/angst, modern au, arranged marriage, rich!sae and rich!reader, gaslighting, generally bad parenting across the board, miscommunications/misunderstandings | notes: looks like i made it for this week after all !! not proofread though because i’m still sick <\3 & hehe i heard you guys asking for sae redemption arc … hmm :)

To the whole world, your marriage with the eldest Itoshi son is a fruitful event. Both your parents, having history as college classmates turned business rivals, have put their differences aside and green-lit the marriage. (It kind of perplexes you, since it’s their idea in the first place, but both you and Sae know that it’s always better to just leave things be.)

“You both need to get along well, do you hear me?”

Ever the authoritative figure, your father, naturally, expects you to do the impossible and get your husband to—you don’t really know, actually. To be a husband?

“Dad, we just got married and we barely know each other, can’t we just—”

“Then do something about it.” The line clicks before you can say anything else, a long sigh leaving your lips. That’s easier said than done.

It’s been a week into the marriage and the most Sae has ever said to you was “here, got you the keys.” Which was on day two. And he hasn’t spoken to you since. Except to respond to your (fake) chirpy good morning! with his own lacklustre “morning”.

And it isn’t like you haven’t tried. On the off chance that you do catch Sae when he’s at home and not frolicking around outside, you try to ask about him. Foolish you thought that maybe if he saw you trying then he’d at least entertain you.

Of course, life isn’t that kind to you. Any time you try to speak to him casually, you’re locked out by his icy stare, quick to glare at you like you’re some weirdo who just happens to live in the same apartment.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you were the type to initiate such things but you’ve never been so until now. And it’s killing you inside everytime you try.

“Save me, please.”

Reo’s chuckle rings over the speakers, your heaved sigh drowned out by him. “Not even a month in, are you sure you can last with this your whole life?”

“Stop rubbing it in, Reo,” you whine, nearly dropping your breakfast on the floor.

It’s a Thursday morning and you’d been given a week off to acclimatise to life as a newlywed. From what you know, Sae was too. Problem is, Sae hasn’t even been home. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late in the night; there’s really no difference than when he’s actually going to work.

And given your… situation, you don’t really want to ask where he’s been and sound like, well, a wife. It’s stupid and crazy for you to think that when you are his wife, but it’s the sticky feeling of the two of you being strangers that makes you feel like you can’t act that way.

That night when Sae comes home to see dinner still untouched, all handsome as usual in his white dress shirt with the top unbuttoned, he gives you a brief once-over before toeing off his shoes. He reeks of alcohol when he walks past you but you don’t comment on that; he doesn’t look tipsy one bit so you have a feeling he was just surrounded by the people doing the actual drinking.

“Why haven’t you eaten?”

You bet he’s only asking because you’ve meticulously placed yourself at the dining table, not moving even when he almost shuts his bedroom door on you. There are two empty plates set out on the table—one for you and one for him.

One glance at the clock sets the time at 9.30pm. Entirely way too late for dinner—or well, a normal one, at least.

Tonight is different from all the other nights, because before tonight, you’d resigned to cooking and eating dinner alone. But given your earlier talk with Reo, he’d convinced you to try forcing Sae into it, as bad as that sounds, and you want to see it through.

“I was waiting for you,” you say, back faced to him.

In this huge apartment, your soft voice bounces off the walls.

You can hear Sae hesitating for a while before finally speaking up. “I already ate.”

It’s like a huge joke, whatever this is. It’s nothing that you can put into words because you expected as much but you’re disappointed that you have a husband who doesn’t care about your feelings yet you can’t actually fault him for it because your circumstances aren’t exactly… normal.

You don’t even realise you’re tearing up until you hear the abrupt sound of Sae’s bedroom door shutting, your tears falling from your cheeks as you jump in your seat.

From your father pressuring you to make this marriage work, to Reo who—bless his pure heart—believes wholeheartedly that you can, and lastly to Sae, who seems absolutely determined to see this marriage through to its divorce, you’re tired.

There’s no such thing as failure to your parents—you’d known that ever since you were born. Especially not to your father, who tolerated nothing less than perfection from you. He wouldn’t even let it go when you failed to bag a huge client and decided that scolding you in front of the entire office was the least he could do.

As his name lights up your phone screen again, you stare dumbly at his message.

So? Are things going well with him?

You would mistaken it for parental concern if not for his next message.

Don’t screw this up like you always do. No one else would want you anyway, hear me?

He has a way of kicking you when you’re down. It’s almost like he decided you not being born would be better.

Just as you’re starting to lose your appetite, you hear the click of the door handle, your heartbeat the only sound you hear before the familiar shift of Sae’s feet against the ground. Half of you thinks he’s just forgotten something and is coming out to get it, but the other half of you is so stupidly optimistic that you can’t help but wish he’s had a change of heart.

Still, you wipe your tears away—a stubborn habit you’ve had since young to not let anyone see you crying, another byproduct of having parents who scolded you even more when they do see your tears—and pretend like you’re completely fine, sitting at the dining table all alone at 9.30pm having cooked entirely too much for a single person.

You can almost laugh at yourself looking at how pathetic this all feels.

But when you see Sae out of the corner of your eye, he’s changed out into more comfortable clothes, just a white oversized shirt with black shorts, taking a seat across from you.

“Let’s eat, then.”

To the outside eye, this might seem like a lacklustre dinner, like there’s nothing noteworthy about it at all. But to you, in that moment, it feels like everything. For once, you can see that even if Sae doesn’t want to, he’s trying. Just like you are.

“Here.” He’s quiet when he eats. Apart from when he’s offering you more meat, quietly picking the bones off of the fish and discarding it onto his own plate and the meat in favour of yours.

You wonder what’s happened today that could contribute to his sudden change of decision. But it’s enough for you to feel his efforts, so you don’t harp on it.

“Do you… like it?”

Even though Sae doesn’t look at you all night, he does respond to you. Which is more than you can say for the past week.

“Mhm.”

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel so lonely.

Your father’s talking about visiting, so hopefully we can all meet again soon!

Sighing, you toss your phone aside and stuff your pillow on your face. Trust your mother to be the bearer of bad news like she’s always been, somehow resigned to being your father’s messenger whenever he feels like he loathes to speak to you directly.

Without even thinking, you know this is just his way of ‘checking up on you’, making sure that everything is going according to his plan. You’re not really sure why he insists that this marriage has to last when divorce happens to be all the rage these days. Sadly.

You can just envision the reprimand you’ll get if he comes over and finds out that you and Sae are not even sharing a room, often not even seeing each other apart from meal times and barely ever speaking at all. He will get to say that he knew all along that he has a useless daughter who can’t even do this simple task right.

Even at this age, he doesn’t want to vanquish his hold over you, always threatening to push the burden onto your sister instead, knowing that you won’t allow that to happen, banking on it to be the catalyst that drives you to obey his every command.

It’s a Saturday, and you haven’t heard the main door open today—unless Sae left the house before 6.30am which is unlikely—so you grind your teeth, weighing the pros and cons of going up to Sae and asking him for a favour. Really, the worst he can do is shut the door in your face, so what are you so scared of?

So ten minutes later, after whining internally to yourself and prepping for what you’re going to say, you find yourself at his bedroom door, quietly knocking on it a few times before hearing his show pause in the background and opening the door.

Sae’s eyes look tired, same as they’ve always been, teal eyes hidden behind those long lashes and his hair more of a mess than usual.

“Yeah?”

It’s stupid for you to think that hey, at least now he’s speaking instead of just grunting at you but your relationship is at an all-time low so you excuse yourself for that.

“We need to talk.”

Minutes later, Sae is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, brows furrowed helplessly as he listens to your ‘favour’.

“So… long story short,” Sae sighs, and you’re awkwardly shifting in your seat on the adjacent couch, anticipating his response. “Your parents might do a surprise visit and we need to look like an actual couple, is that it?”

Well, at least he was listening.

You nod, your fingers fiddling with each other. Somehow, you’ve become a nervous mess whenever you’ve had to interact with your husband.

“That won’t do.”

Your heart sinks just from those three simple words. You’re looking at the ground, polished and white, cold like real marble. You should’ve expected as much, but you really really don’t want to risk this impacting your sister.

“But if you could just—”

Before you know it, Sae’s right in front of you, forehead pressed against yours and teal eyes coldly calculating, as though he’s evaluating some statistic you’re not aware of.

He sighs and you can feel his hot breath against your lips, and suddenly you forget how to breathe, until he pulls away and sits back down where he came from. Sae’s eyes are still fixed on you, unrelenting.

“How are they gonna believe a thing when you’re that awkward around me?”

Sae can do all he can to make this believable, but it sure as hell won’t work if you’re this shy and nervous around him. Your parents are like his own, like vultures, they’ll pick this tension up in a second and they’re just going to know something is off. Then your plan will be all for naught.

“Um, well…”

He can tell you haven’t thought of that yet, so he brushes it off. You look like you’re going to hyperventilate if he pressures you on this any more. You looked cute though, all flustered when all he did was close the gap between you—but he keeps that to himself.

“Never mind that, what else do we need?” Because even without you saying, Sae can tell that this marriage doesn’t seem the slightest bit convincing. It just seems like two strangers sharing an apartment together.

“I was thinking maybe we could… takesomepicturesandframethemup on the wall?”

This time, Sae doesn’t hide his perplexity, blinking profusely at your statement. You’re averting your gaze too, and Sae nearly finds himself laughing, nearly. Your nervousness is quite amusing. It takes him a while to fully grasp what you were saying.

“Fine,” he relents, leaning back against the couch, internally snickering at the way you seem like a puppy, starry eyes gazing at him when he agrees. “You book a studio, put it on my card. Anything else?”

He’s like a businessman through and through, you realise, releasing everything off his to-do list in one fell swoop. You go to the next item on the agenda in your head.

“Oh… about finances,” you approach the subject carefully, knowing how it’s a sensitive topic for most people. “Should we just split everything fifty-fifty?”

For this, however, Sae wastes no time.

“That’s fine, I’ll pay,” he says, matter-of-factly, in the most no-nonsense way he can manage. Though, the next thing he asks of you is one you never expected. “How much do you spend in a month? Excluding bills.”

You blink at him in surprise for a while, before trying to calculate it in your head. “Without bills? Um, maybe ¥150,000?”

Sae nods, pulling up his phone and typing on it for a while before looking back at you. “I don’t know how much you have in your bank, but I’ll open up a joint savings account, you can put everything else aside from your monthly expenditure in there. If you need any urgent expenses, just withdraw it as you need to.”

The way he says all this stoically nearly makes you mistake this for a business meeting.

“Excuse me? You want me to… transfer all my money into this account?”

“Except for your monthly expenses,” he corrects you, back to staring at his phone. “I’ll handle everything else, taxes, bills, whatever.”

This somehow sounds like all the scams you’ve watched on crime shows. That’s why you’re hesitating, but you have an inkling that Sae’s not that kind of person… is he?

“Um… what if…” You trail off, hesitant to get the words out, afraid of how he might take it.

Sae looks at you, putting his phone down on the table, his fingers interlaced with each other. He seems to understand your conflict, but he doesn’t explain anything further. He just asks you something simple. “Do you trust me?”

The simplest answer would be no, because you barely knew each other. Yet somehow, you feel the “yes” coming out of your mouth before you realise it, and Sae nods in acknowledgement.

“I’ll send you the details soon,” is all he tells you before you see his phone lighting up, vibrating with a call. You manage to see the nickname ‘dummy’ come up before Sae grabs his phone, looking at it seemingly nostalgically before saying a “I gotta take this” and retreating to his bedroom.

The call ends as soon as Sae shuts the door to his bedroom. But just as quickly, he sees a new text popping up, and it’s irritating how he’s quick to open it immediately.

Maybe it’s a little pathetic of you to be in a good mood simply because Sae’s become a little more open now. And by open, you just mean he’s not just cold and silent and distant, but is now being more receptive.

Another two weeks have passed and you’re beginning to see a lot more progress. Like how Sae tells you what time he’ll be back so you can coordinate dinner. Or how he’ll be the one to settle dinner if you’re the one getting home late. His texts are a lot more than just simple acknowledgements and you find yourself smiling at your phone even if he’s there complaining about old geezers at work and how they’re so irritating and asking why they won’t just shut up.

“I guess that means everything’s going well in the new Itoshi household?”

Across from you, Reo’s smirking as he sips on his udon, noticing how your lips curve into a smile as you form a text. You pout and kick his shin lightly, annoyed that you got caught red-handed.

“Maybe,” you tell him, giggling.

For someone rumoured to be as rude and negative as Itoshi Sae, you find that he’s not all that bad once you get to know him a little. He’s just a regular guy, or maybe one that has a bigger chip on his shoulder than most people do, but you know better than to pry on that a little too early.

Reo ruffles your head, making it a little messier than usual but somehow, you don’t care too much about that now. “Just make sure he treats you well, ‘kay?”

You grin and nod in response, “yes, sir!”

For the lack of love your parents failed to provide, you’re more than grateful that you can get such concern from your best friend. You guess you can count yourself luckier than most.

That same afternoon, you get home from work with a hop in your step as you get a message that your photos have been delivered to your doorstep. And just as promised, it sits on your mat tied up neatly in a box and you squeal as you hurriedly unlock the door and unwrap it.

The still shots of you and Sae look perfect, all thanks to that professional photographer you managed to hire. Sae was less than thrilled to be there, but somehow, even with his stoic expression, the photos work. There’s shots of him with his arm around your shoulder, head resting on yours as he looks at the camera. Other shots where he follows your poses and sticks his tongue out. And when you get to the bottom of the pile, you see the last shot, the one you remember the most, because it’s the one where you’re just looking at the camera and Sae, without any direction at all, just leans in and kisses you on the temple.

At that moment, your phone vibrates, a message from Sae popping up.

But night falls and it’s suddenly 8pm and you haven’t touched the food on the table, sweet and sour pork long forgotten on the dining table because you’re busy setting up the pictures all around the house.

To his credit, the frames Sae picked are beautiful. They’re made of a dark wood to contrast the impossibly white walls and the white backdrop of your photoshoot. Though, he managed to order way too many of them so you idly wonder what you can do with the rest of the spares.

Once you’re done with the living room, you find yourself left with a few photos you reserved for the master bedroom, and you hesitate before going in. After nearly a month here and you realise you’d never actually been in here before.

It looks nice and clean and Sae’s a lot less messier than you thought he’d be. His towel is thrown sloppily on the floor and his bedsheets are a mess, but other than that the rest of the place is relatively spotless. Heck, you think even your room’s not as well-kept as his. Somehow you feel a little shameful about that.

Shaking your head, you snap out of it, getting back to the task at hand: meticulously placing these photos so you can act like the perfect couple once your parents decide to visit. (There’s a little glimmer of hope inside of you that hopes that by then, it wouldn’t have to be an act.)

Fifteen minutes later, you’re all about done in there, except when you accidentally gave yourself a paper cut trying to fit the photo in nicely. Clambering to the bedroom to find the nearest first aid kit, you find one in the nightstand—the other side of where he sleeps, judging from the way his blanket is thrown. Grabbing the plaster out of there, you stop in motion when you see a small A4-sized black gift box inside, a translucent gold bow rimming its sides.

As you bandage your finger up, you try not to think about it but your curiosity gets the best of you; it’s wrong but you can’t help yourself. Your fingers grab the box carefully out of its place, and you open it to see Sae’s alien face.

Only alien because he actually looks happy in those pictures.

The first few pictures you see are of Sae with Rin, who you know is his younger brother. They look alike too, and in some ways, it reminds you of you and your sister. It brings a smile to your face, but only momentarily, before you get bombarded by a ton of pictures of Sae with a girl you’ve never seen.

She’s pretty; brown hair down to her chest, having those beach wave curls that make you envious, piercing green eyes that shine through her bangs. A petite frame, with a style that’s already sophisticated even when she was a teenager back then.

You can’t help but wonder who she is, though you don’t really need to when you have your gut instinct telling you it’s an old flame. And judging by the amount of photos he’s kept, it’s someone he still can’t forget. Is she why he’s been so hesitant?

All the photos were taken in those old school photo booth machines that used to be all the rage. That’s why their pictures always have filters and little scribbles drawn on before printing. It’s heartbreaking yet you can’t stop looking. So Sae is a person who can smile a lot, as long as he’s with the right one, it seems.

Most of the pictures have scribbles of M+S on them, and you assume M must be her initial. Is it crazy for you to be hurt by this? It’s a whole side of Sae you’d never seen, and it was on full display for someone else. It must seem like a fever dream for you.

You try to think positively, like it doesn’t mean much that he still keeps this even though it was a love seemingly long gone. You should have faith in him… right?

But then, the last in the pile is a normal picture, taken by camera and developed by film. It’s a picture of Sae and M lip-locked, his arms on her waist, her wanton smile visible even from this angle. Behind it, like a secret love note meant only for the lovers’ eyes to see, written in bright red:

itoshi sae, will you love me forever?

forever and ever, dummy.

And then you remember the same nickname flashing across his phone that night, and it all comes crashing down on you. And you feel like the stupidest person on the planet. These pictures are from forever ago, but it’s entirely plausible that he’s not finished with whatever it was.

Somehow, it feels like everything is in reverse.

You want Sae’s love, and this is your marriage—you and Sae’s—but then why, even as his wife, do you feel like the third party instead?

taglist: @kimvmarvel @mxplesyrvp @yuzurins @futuristicxie @kiopanxp @k0z3me @y-sabell-a @sae1toshilover @xoxojisu @karmatiz @sagejin @minnieminnie00-got7 @hearts4heidi @shiinobu-x @n1uh @prepchuu @leeyzhuo @shidouryusm @tsukishiro-yue2402 @kaiserkisser @pookiebearcave @dcvilxswish @saeskiss @whtflrr @arminseas @raphsimp *bolded: can’t tag you due to your settings >_<

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natsaffection · 6 months

Note

hi 👋 how are you??

im having stressful exams this month, a lot of tough subjects, and i'm so frustrated with it all. could you please share your thoughts on how natty would handle r in a situation like this? maybe in the "my sweet baby" universe??

if you can, thank you so much, my love 💖

Together. | N. Romanoff

Sugar Mommy!Natasha x Sugar Baby!Reader

warnings: Just fluff🍀🍀

words: 947

A/n: Please take care of yourself if it gets too much, drink cocoa, and do other fun and relaxing things!!☕️

Now you're sitting in front of it again. One stack after the other, and it just didn't stop?

Why did you decide to do it again? Ah...Right...Future...

You were a bit frustrated, you had imagined your days to be different from sitting in Natasha's living room and cramming for hours. Natasha was also busy with herself in a meeting, and you couldn't help but take a leaf out of her book. Maybe one day you will be as successful as her..Run your own business someday.

CEO Of the L/N Company..Sounds good already....

"What are you thinking about?" As if she knew you were thinking about her right now, Natasha stands in the room and looks at you smiling, you sigh and put the stapler you had in your hand on the table, "Can't I just start with you?" Natasha could hear the frustration in your voice, and when she saw all the paper stuff she knew exactly what you meant. You see her looking at you with an unfamiliar look and suddenly she’s leaving.

She just left, Damn, you did something wrong..Before you could dive further into negative scenarios, she came back and sits down right next to you, "Alright, what are we looking at here?" You looked at her in confusion, "What about your meeting?"

Natasha reached for a stapler that was on the table, "Finished it, you are more important to me than listening to some people who think they can do something better," She looks back at you, "Now let's talk about you. So, what's it about?"

You couldn't help but smile softly. You can already feel the pressure easing a bit, ,,Aspects of human history and experience.“ Natasha flipped through the sheets a bit and as you did, she asked, „What can you think of already?“

Okay, how do you tell her you've just been staring at it so far? „Uhm..“ Natasha put the folder on her knees and this time looks directly at you, „You haven't looked at it yet, have you?“

You sigh again and lean against the couch, „I wonder how you managed to make everything look so easy, Nat. You're rich, you have your own company, and it seems like you don't have to worry about anything..“

Natasha's eyes softened, and she put a hand on your thighs, her voice soft and soothing. „Y/n, it may seem that way from the outside, but I promise you, success did not come on its own. I, too, sat on the floor and studied for hours. I had to deal with countless obstacles, setbacks, and doubts. Getting to where I am now took hard work and determination.“

You continue to look at her, „I know it won't be easy, but sometimes it just feels overwhelming. I want to achieve great things, but the road ahead seems so long..“

Natasha smiled and squeezed your thigh, „I believe in you, Y/n. You have the intelligence, the drive, and the passion. Remember that every little step brings you closer to your goals. Rome wasn't built in a day, nor were successful businesses or successful careers.“ Natasha realized that she was playing to your motivation with her speech, so she took the chance and went right on, „So, can you tell me anything interesting about any of these civilizations yet? Which ones are there, for example?“

Your eyes lit up as you begin to share your knowledge. „Well, the Egyptians, for example, were known for their impressive pyramids, and they believed in the afterlife.. They had intricate burial practices to prepare for the journey to the afterlife.“

Natasha nodded, acknowledging your answer, „That's right. It's fascinating how different societies view life and death. What are the challenges you find in learning about this topic?“

You sighed for the third time now, your frustration evident. „I get overwhelmed by all the dates and names. I feel like there's so much to remember.“

Natasha's voice sounded reassuring. „It's normal for you to feel this way. Let's try to break it down. We'll focus on one civilization at a time and create a timeline. That way it won't feel so scary. Also, I'm here to help you with the names and dates, understand?“

That sounds like a lot of work, you thought to yourself, but not for you, for Natasha, „Nat..Is this really okay that I'm keeping you here like this? you must have-" she interrupted you directly, „Quit that.“ She leans toward you, " „What good does it do me to have you sinking here in front of me, hm? I'd hire someone for you to make your tables and everything you need, so. Carry on.“

You had to smile again and nodded your agreement. At some point you reached a point where Natasha asked, „Let's talk about the ancient Mesopotamian civilizations. What else do you know about them?“

You think for a moment before answering, „They were known for their sophisticated writing system and the Code of Hammurabi, which was one of the earliest law codes.“ Natasha nodded in agreement. „That's right. And what do you know about the Indus Valley civilization?“

You hesitated, struggling to remember the details. „I'm not sure about that.. I think it was an ancient civilization on the Indian subcontinent, but I don't remember much else.“

Natasha smiled, without a hint of frustration in her voice. „ And that's all right, Y/n. The Indus Valley Civilization was actually on the Indian subcontinent, and they had advanced city planning with well-organized cities.“ Natasha notices you drifting off again, and she puts the things aside, „It's normal to forget some details. We'll work on it together.“

You appreciate her patience and support. „Thank you for your understanding, Natasha. Sometimes it's frustrating when I can't remember everything.“ Natasha reassured you, „It's all part of the learning process. We'll take another look at Indus Valley Civilization and make sure you understand it thoroughly.“

I need a Natasha. 🥲

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #nat x reader #dom!natasha x reader #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha

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haet-sal · 9 months

Text

if you hold me without hurting me you’ll be the first who ever did//juyeon smut

tags: juyeon smut, sugar daddy/ age gap au (8 years lol!!), you’re 22, seduction, DRINKING!!, corruption kink, Juyeon asking you if it’s okay A LOT, juyeon calling you ‘innocent’, CHOKING, ROMANCE!!

You meet older rich guy Juyeon at a hotel bar, and the rest is history

“I’ve never been with a stranger.”

“How could you be okay with me doing these things? Aren’t you afraid what I’ll do to you? Do you think about my intentions at all? You’re so easy…”

“You can do anything you want,” you say. “Even ruin me.”

“... I couldn’t live with myself, Y/N, please… I… I still think you’re innocent, so I can’t give in to you. But in all honesty, I want you so bad I could just…” His hand clasped against your jaw, as if he were afraid to touch you.

You kissed him on the lips the only way you knew how to kiss a man. “Can we go? To your room?”

w.c.: 3.8k

You adjust the strap of your slip dress on your shoulders, it just kept falling off. Bereft of any foresight, or perhaps rushing, you didn’t bring any coat or jacket, leaving you with a side-boob out; at least the hotel bar was heated, although the lights were dim; like a dark, damp wolf’s lair you’d walked into.

You’re not really a bar type of person, although you guessed you could make an exception for a place as classy as this—jesus, you thought, how’d doyeon even book this hotel for her birthday party? How much must it even cost on a night?

You tell the bartender the number of your room—0602—and asks that he puts the drinks’ into the room’s tab, hoping that by tomorrow morning they won’t pore over the giant receipt and just pay upfront. You were less… affluent than your friends, to be very honest…

The bar was dark, and the lights lit up a dim green and orange around the seats. You order a fun cocktail, a sweet thing that you could drink all night without getting a buzz, and sit down.

You don’t know why you sat so close to someone, when there were empty seats all around the bar… You didn’t feel like switching now, though, what if the man took offense, that you didn’t want to sit next to him?

You started to chew on the kiwi slice the cocktail came with, and the gentleman beside you puts down the notebook he’s writing in, turning to face you, probably because it’d be rude not to greet at all.

Once he turns his face towards you, though, you get a terrible idea. Maybe the cocktail did make you a little braver, more effective than the taste of sharp stinging in your mouth… “Hello,” you whisper, not to disturb the quaint atmosphere in the bar. You had your purse with you, and you toyed with the faux leather just to fight the nervousness. You nodded at the notebook. “Business?” You had an uncle that did his accounting every night after he was done spending, maybe the guy was that kind of man.

But the man shook his head, and you see that he’s lean—when he turns his body towards you—a thin figure, and broad shoulders, and amazing, beautiful, narrow eyes, with a few crinkles around them when he smiles that you know he has to be somewhat older.

“No,” he says curtly, “no business at all.” He sips his drink, and you see that it’s hard liquor, presented in a no-nonsense, almost completely sombre dark orange shade of liquid.

“Oh.” You turn back to the bar, thinking he didn’t want to speak to you. What business did you even have talking to him—you’re literally here for a goofy party, he’s probably relaxing because he’s swamped with so much work.

But he extends a friendly gesture. “It’s my vocabulary book… I’m learning Spanish, so.”

“People do that on an app these days…”

He chuckled, and you saw that his voice was already quiet and light without even needing to whisper. “Maybe younger people, yes.”

“You can’t be that old.”

“You just look much younger than me,” he says softly.

“What are you drinking?” you ask, and he tears his eyes away from your lips just to look down the bottom of his glass.

“Bourbon.” His eyes are back on your lips again, tinted deep pink with a lip product, thinking you were going to look pretty for the boy classmates, but here you were with an older man… “I am here on business, though,” he says. “But I’m… well, even I get tired sometimes.”

You nodded.

“Can I ask if you’re even allowed to be drinking?”

You laughed, opening your purse and sliding your uni ID down the bar counter, towards his side of the wooden boundary, presenting him with un-fake-able proof.

“Ah, you’re a student… Second year?” He asks, reverting back to korean, dae-hak yi-hak-nyeon? He stared at the card for a while, slowly saying your name as if he was savoring it. “Twenty two,” he said softly, calculating your age.

“It’s a lucky number,” you put in. He’s eyeing your lips, but you’re eyeing his drink—maybe if you drank something that strong, you’d have more courage?

“I almost think I should take care of you. You look like a lost little girl.”

“Twenty-two,” you reminded him, unable to stop your face from making an adorable pout, which he reaches out and touches, as if trying to get you to smile again.

“Aren’t you too cute?” He pauses to swallow. “Like, dangerously cute? What are you doing at this hotel?”

“My friend had a birthday party, so they booked a room to party in, but… I just felt like… I don’t know… not partying? I didn’t know I’d meet someone like you, though…”

Juyeon smiles slightly. “Does the fact that you met me make you feel better about coming out here?”

You nod. “I mean, you’re older, and rich, probably my friends’ dream… they all want a sugar daddy.” Oh, fuck. “I mean! I’m not like… preying on you or anything, not taking advantage of your kindness... Like I wouldn’t… I’m… good? I’m a good girl.”

“Good girl?” He sips his bourbon until all that’s left was ice, and wordlessly flags the bartender down to give him another glass-full. “It’s funny you think I’m the one being taken advantage of. Ah… I really should control myself.”

“Control yourself from…?” You knew, of course, but you wanted to know if you were actually reading his mind correctly right now.

“First, from kissing you.”

You pulled back. “I’d taste like a cocktail…”

“If you worry about that, I wouldn’t do it.” But he still leaned in closer towards you.

You close the gap, kissing him, a hand on his jaw almost so tenderly, better than you’d ever handled one of the boys at your college. Then you giggle. “So I learned the taste of bourbon second-hand through a kiss…”

Juyeon looked almost scandalized, pulling away but just barely. “I can’t believe you did that… You weren’t supposed to kiss me, Y/N, you weren’t supposed to want me…” He grabs the base of your chair and pulls it close until your thigh was touching his, you didn’t even know these chairs at wheels…

“You didn’t like it?” you asked, absolutely concerned you might have to go back to your room with your friends and just…

“I liked it…” he looked pained. “Too much. I can’t resist the way you look at me and the thought of being with you…”

Shyly but seductively, you put a finger on your pink lips, the spot he couldn’t stop staring at. “You’re already thinking of it? Are you thinking of what I’d look like… under you?”

“Are you trying to seduce me now?” You think you feel what that book he was writing in must have felt, to be touched so tenderly and with so much care… He looked enraged, pained, everything… He looked absolutely seduced. “You think I don’t already imagine those things?”

“Bartender?” you asked, raising your hand, but he covers it from being raised.

“Are you trying to drink more?”

“I want to know what kind of buzz you have…”

“You don’t know how to drink. You’re so cute.” He pulls you closer. He’s the cleanest man you’ve ever even met or touched, he smells like expensive cologne… “I really can’t stop myself.” He touched your shoulder, gradually going up to the neck. “I might kiss you again. I don’t know what’s come over me…”

“Am I that sexy right now?” you joked, almost classlessly.

“I could just take you up to my room,” Juyeon whispers. “Would you still want to be a good girl?”

Your dress’s strap falls down the shoulder again, and you fix it, giggling. “Ah, my dress is already coming off!”

He almost growls. “Please… if I go any further with this I’m… I don’t know if this is the correct or right thing to do to you. Don’t do this. Please, you’re innocent.”

“I’m not.” You kiss his neck, even biting the skin, although he doesn’t react. “I’m here for you to devour.”

“You’re just a college girl… I’m an adult. You’re not supposed to want this, please…”

“Why do you think 22 is young?” You giggled. “I can drink, drive, buy condoms…”

“I just… don’t want to be a bad guy…” He pulls away. “We need to stop.”

“Oh…” you sighed. “Can I still go to your room for tonight? My friends are probably high, and I don’t wanna go back to my room.”

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N,” Juyeon says slowly, as if every word were a red-hot warning, “if you come to my room, I’m going to do things. You need to be prepared for this…”

You hesitated. “I’ve never been with a stranger.”

“How could you be okay with me doing these things? Aren’t you afraid what I’ll do to you? Do you think about my intentions at all? You’re so easy…”

“You can do anything you want,” you say. “Even ruin me.”

You kissed him on the lips the only way you knew how to kiss a man. “Can we go? To your room?”

“You’re going to make me do something I shouldn’t. Do you know what the right thing is here? I… you’re killing me. I can’t stop wanting you.”

You kissed him, and swiftly pulled him down to the elevators, lips attached as you waited for the doors to open. Breathless, you glanced at the buttons… “which floor?”

“12th.” He leans in and pressed you against the wall, whispering: “you’re making me want to do something very bad, little girl.” Your lips don’t touch, you just glance at him through the small distance, teasing him. The elevator stops.

You glanced around. “Woah, wait… aren’t there the suite rooms?”

“Yeah, my room’s right beside here.” You followed him in, and slowly got shell-shocked by the sheer massiveness of the room… Juyeon is loaded. Or his company is loaded. But… oh god. “You’re… this rich…”

“Enough about my room… Look at you.” He touched your dress like he’s trying to control the impulse to rip it.

Your strap fell down your shoulder again, and you giggle. “Should I leave the rest to your imagination?”

He grips your hips, pulling the dress up slightly. “You’re such a tease… this is so wrong. You’re so young.” But he pulls the strap down until both were hanging off your shoulder. “How can this be okay?”

He’d moveed on from your lips, now your chest was his new object, looking hungrily at you. “You just… you seem so innocent…” He touched your thigh, his hand going up between the legs, but stopping before he pushes anything hot and wet. “Fuck. I can’t go through with this and still have my honor… you don’t know what you’re doing and you don’t know what will happen to you if we go any further… Do you really want to be used up for your body? I can’t go through with this…”

Seeing his reluctance, you pulled back, and grab his broad shoulders, as if controlling him, and sit him on the luxurious hotel couch. “Okay, let’s take it slow. Let’s try to take our minds off what we’re going to do…”

“Fine…” he still looked weak, as if he was fighting everything in him from ripping your clothes off. “What now?”

You straddled him now, getting on top of him “Talk to me.”

His hands gripped the sofa at both sides just so he wouldn't do something wrong with your body. “Y/n… what are you doing right now? Aren’t you afraid? You’re making me weak.”

“Just try to talk, okay?” Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt slowly, and you teased him, lingering over his collarbone and ribs. “Tell me about your work? What were you thinking when you met me? Anything…” You started to kiss his ear.

He sighs in surrender, hands groping you now. “I really can’t think straight right now… You look so soft…” He kissed your neck now, and you could feel his teeth under all that softness.

“Yeah? you can’t think? What’s on your mind?”

“Everything… everything about you,” he admitted. “This must feel wrong, right? Showing your body to a man almost a decade older?” He took off his shirt, draping it over the couch.

“Should I stay on top of you like this?” You could feel his cock hard and intruding right under your hip.

“Whatever you like… What do you want to do to me?”

“I want you to pin me down onto the bed… and…”

“What if I made it hurt?” He was carrying you back onto the bed, just to pin you down.

“Do it.”

“Really?” His voice is more breath than words.

Before you nod to affirm, his belt is off and thrown across the room, and his tight suit-pants are down, and he looks down from you, almost godlike, before attaching himself to you, ever single way: teeth in neck, tongue on skin, his hard length directed into your warmth by a stray, careful hand.

He doesn’t talk, almost like he’s basking in the shame. Just the rocking of his hips against yours. There’s panting, and even whimpering from him, like he’s pathetic and you control what he gets to receive, but it’s him that’s inside of you, desperate and leaking. “Please… ah…”

“You’re not going to have any regrets about this, alright? I promise,” he says.

“Of course not… I trust you…”

“You do?” He pants again, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he holds yours. “I’ve been having a fantasy of making a good girl like you turn into a bad girl, okay?”

“How do you do that?”

“I make her… drool. And beg. And get as thirsty as she can for my cock.”

You simply moan in answer, Juyeon hot and hard against you. How warm you were was driving him insane, made him weak in the core, but he wouldn’t say that out loud… Just through breaths and body language and clandestine cogitation.

“Poor darling,” he panted. “I can’t… I can’t be as rough as I want to, or you’ll regret this. You’ll be crying.”

When you’re both around to come, you get desperate, and the rocking isn’t doing it anymore. Juyeon is the first to get rough, slamming himself into you with a pace unmatched from him before… Suddenly, he decides he couldn’t leave his hands idle anymore, bringing them to your neck and choking you. It feels good, as you leave the rest of your strength in your legs, which wrap around his hips until you come.

You’re sniffling as you recover.

“Y/n, are you crying?” He held you quietly. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s just that it felt so, so good,” you say with a smile. “I get… I don’t know, teary, when it’s that good. You were good. You were kind.”

“Which part was I good to you…” he groaned. “I can’t believe you still want me.”

“Well…” you reached over and touched his hands, which were about three sizes bigger than yours. “Maybe you are too big for me… But you’re still a perfect fit.”

He opened his arms. “Sleep? I promise in the morning we can sort it out…”

You switched the lights off, crawling into bed. “Ah… messy…”

“‘S okay,” he hummed.

His cat-like eyes were watching you as you woke up, and you immediately touch him, wrapping yourself around his shoulders. “Good morning.”

“Morning… I can’t believe you’re not mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because…” he brushed away your hair from your neck, revealing a hand mark, red but not purplish like a bruise.You couldn’t see it, but seeing the regret in his eyes was enough. “... because of this.”

You kiss him in reply to tell him you weren’t mad, but he quickly pulls away.

“Do you work part time?”

“Yeah, but on nights.”

He chuckled. “Classic night owl… It’s Saturday, and my client wants to meet in the afternoon. I have something planned for us, if you wouldn’t object?”

You nod slowly. “... What…?”

“You’ll see.” Blithely, he covered your naked body with more blanket, and fished out a giant fluffy bathrobe from the shelves for you to wear.

You giggled. “Don’t you want to… continue, if your plans aren’t taking place any time soon?”

“Don’t. Be. Naughty.” He chided slowly as he typed away an email in his phone. “They’ll be here soon.”

“They?!” You’re lucky you dressed in time, because the door bell rang, and as Juyeon told them to come in, staff, dressed in hotel uniform-blank-and-white suits, brought in a whole rack of clothes, almost too many, jammed in a small pole on expensive ivory hangers. “Juyeon,” you murmur quietly, “what is this?”

“Shush.” With a kiss on your lips, he lifted you up to your feet. “I thought I’d buy you back what I ripped from you last night,” he says, referring to your panties… and the broken zipper of your slip dress. Which, honestly, seeing all these new dresses, was a horrible fit from you, plus the strap kept falling off, although that did help you seduce someone.

Juyeon finished his coffee sporadically glancing at you with the staff, who fitted you in for the clothes right away, everything you pointed at and wanted to try. Although everything was heavenly nice, you just picked out two outfits in the end: a dress, and a matching skirt and blouse, thanking the staff who folded it for you.

“Is that all?” Juyeon frowned. “You didn’t like the others?”

“No, I liked it! I just… it’s too much.”

“If you liked it, you can have the entire collection.”

“NO!” you gasped, too overwhelmed to even smile. “I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, and… I have no place wearing things that expensive.”

“Of course you have a place doing that,” Juyeon chided absentmindedly. “But if these dresses weren’t to your liking, I’ll just get you more from the show.”

“... Show?” you started slowly.

“That’s what I’m here for—I have to make an appearance. For the fall/winter season…” He kissed your temple, then headed off to get dressed in his suit. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

You glanced over at the bedside table, where he had laid out two watches that he chose not to wear for the day, turning them over in your hands.

They’re expensive. Heavy. Crystal-studded.

What kind of guy did you just sleep with?

After excusing yourself but getting his number (to all three of his phones, even, and he told you to contact his assistant if you wanted), you headed back to the hotel room with your friends, where they were all hungover or still zonked out.

You had last night’s dress folded in a bag, and was wearing Chanel, which your friends noticed immediately, Doyeon coming over to you asking what the hell happened…

You’d never been asked ‘what happened’ without it being bad.

“I think I met a sugar daddy,” you say.

“Here?!”

“He has three Rolexes and he bought me an entire rack of clothes.”

You’d meant to call Juyeon after your part time shift, but after you finished, you fished around your bag for the contact numbers and emails he gave you, when you found the paper with the ink bled through from the mineral water you had that spilled, that simply couldn’t be salvaged. All that’s left was his work email, which you, assuredly, would never be able to contact without being awkward…

Imagine being his assistant, going through work emails, and seeing one with the subject ‘RE: so about that night…’ no way, she’d just delete your message.

You regretted not asking him when he was leaving the hotel, hoping he’d at least remembered your existence and left something for you to find him by…

When you went back to the hotel—and the security almost didn’t let you in, being that you had no business—his room had been cleared out and he was already on a plane. You just slowly dejectedly walked back to the lobby emptyhanded, missing the way his giant hand felt intertwined with yours.

“Did he leave any messages for me?” you asked slowly.

“Depends, what is your name?”

You gingerly slowly gave out your name, and the receptionist shook her head. You sighed. Well… it’s definitely not that kind of story, where you land a prince charming… it was just one night. You should be happy, right?

It’s two months after, that your friends make you contact him. They kept talking about how real sugar daddies should never be let go, when really, you didn’t care that he bought you chanel and all those other brands you couldn’t even fit in your mouth to speak… you’d have fallen for him even if he was faking the whole wealth thing…

Which he wasn’t, as you found out after googling his company and seeing the name of his assistant.

You typed in a long email explaining it to his assistant, hoping not everyone had access to this email, making it easy to find in his inbox.

Would he check it personally? You sighed.

Doyeon wouldn't stop talking about it, ever since you met Juyeon. Always "why do YOU get to meet a sugar daddy? At MY party?" Although you thought maybe your romance dreams were well and over once the contact card bled through your bag.

The truth was, you missed juyeon… a lot… endlessly, and the thought that he was just a one-time-brush-past scared you.

You fell asleep for a nap, and when you woke up, you had a new email. It was dark, and your designer clothes hung drying out after a wash. You rub your eyes and check it in a hurry—it’s 2 a.m. in korea, although who knows where he could be traveling to?

But what you found wasn’t automated, or from his assistant, and the words were his.

Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for your message?

#deoboyznet #tbz imagines #the boyz x reader #tbz scenarios #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #juyeon smut #juyeon x reader #juyeon scenarios #juyeon imagines #the boyz #the boyz fic #tbz fic

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brokebonewritings · 2 months

Text

Never Before, Never Again

Astarion x Fem! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Angst, Abuse, Death, Mentions of Blood, Smut

Summary: It’s been six month since settling down in Baldur’s Gate with Astarion. After killing Cazador, you notice his aggressive nature taking over. How long will it take for you to be truly done with his wrath.

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I want to start off by apologizing but I felt so inspired after the new romance scenes in Patch 6. I also want to say that I will be writing a good ole, fluff fic with Astarion just to make up for this.

Navigation || Masterlist

You paced down the corridor of the palace you now shared with Astarion. It had been 6 months since that fateful night. The killing of Cazador had been eventful so to say and shortly after you had accepted his invitation to be his. Forever.

It wasn't the same. You started noticing it little by little. His attitude towards you had become increasingly aggressive. Feral even.

You couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that lingered in the air whenever Astarion was around. His once charming demeanor had turned into something darker. As you walked through the palace corridors, you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.

Reaching the library, you decided to throw yourself into your research. You were a scholarly warlock, after all. And work you did. For hours you studied magic texts, and the histories behind them.

As you sat in the dimly lit library, Astarion entered the room with a predatory glint in his eyes. His movements were slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. When you turned, you tried to shake off the feeling of fear that gripped your chest as he approached you.

"Darling, is this where you've been all day?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending a shiver down your spine. "I've missed you and your delicious body."

The room turned cold as his words sank in. Something had changed in him, something dark and possessive.

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his unsettling presence. "I've been busy with my studies," you replied, keeping your tone neutral despite the growing sense of dread in your heart.

The dread whenever he was around had only appeared in the most recent weeks. You tried to focus on the book in front of you, but his proximity was suffocating.

Astarion's hand suddenly shot out and slammed the book shut, causing you to jump in your seat. His grip on the tome was tight, his knuckles turning white as he leaned in close enough for you to feel his cold breath on your skin.

"Studies can wait," he whispered, his voice sending a chill down your spine. "I have other ways for us to spend our time together."

You had to play along. It was the only way to appease him. The only way you could escape.

"How is that, my love?" You say as you rise from your seat, taking his outstretched hand gently.

In a swift motion he pulls you in close to his chest. As he held you tightly against him, his grip almost bruising, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of thrill.

His lips brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he whispered, "I want to show you a new side of pleasure, my dear. A side that only I can unlock for you." His words were laced with seduction.

As he guided you out of the library and down the dimly lit corridors of the palace, you couldn't shake off the feeling of being led into the unknown.

You found yourself in a room you were very familiar with. The air was heavy with the scent of ancient magic, and as Astarion's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, you realized truly you were not in the presence of the man you one knew.

"Darling, did you bring me in here to ravish me?" You say as you begin to remove your silk dress.

Watching his eyes darken with hunger, his lips curled into a sinister smile. He circled around you like a predator assessing its prey, his fingertips trailing lightly along your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

He finally stops behind you and reaches around your neck to grip your jaw. His touch was both possessive and delicate, a stark contrast that sent a wave of conflicting emotions through you. As he tilted your head back to expose your vulnerable throat, you could feel the weight of his gaze burning into your skin.

Astarion's voice was a low murmur against your ear, promising whispered secrets and forbidden desires. "Oh, my sweet little morsel," he murmured, "I am going to make sure there is not a single place on your skinned that is untouched."

His mouth finds the pressure point in your neck and you moan as he gives it a gentle bite. You know he can feel you tremble beneath his hand. He trails his kisses lower until he is able to fully sink his teeth in.

You begin to gasp and writhe under his touch, the intensity of his grip and the sharp sting of his bite both arousing and terrifying. And then, as suddenly as it began, Astarion pulls away, leaving you breathless and exposed.

"Astarion!" You shout, hand covering the bite marks on your neck. "I told you to ask before doing that!"

"I do not need to ask permission! You are mine! I own you!" He grabs your arm pulling you towards him.

That did not stop the tears from beginning to drip down your cheeks. Everything he did not want to become, he was. After countless promises that he was the same rogue you had met that fateful day.

"Oh darling, do you see what you have made me do?" He whispers. "You know I don't like to shout at you."

Astarion's features softened as he saw the tears on my face, though his eyes remained distant and cold. He slowly released my arm and stepped back.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors in your body. "You need to control yourself, Astarion. You are beginning to change into someone I don't know."

"Of course I am changing. I am the most powerful being in this world." He walks over to the chair by his desk. "Are you doubting me now?"

Shaking your head, you couldn't help but to submit to the question. "No, no. Of course not, love."

He motions with his finger for you to come to him and you obey. When you approach him, he motions for you to kneel before him. Once again you obey his command.

"Here is what we are going to do, pet." He begins "You are going to be a good girl, and do as I say. Understand?"

You nod. "Yes I understand."

"Such a good girl, aren't you?"

He stands and steps forward grabbing hold of your chin and bringing you in for a searing kiss. Once he was satisfied, he pushes against your cheek causing you to fall back roughly. You try to catch your breath as you sit there, staring up at him.

"Get undressed, and sit on the bed for me, darling."

You stand and finally fully undress. You sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the silk sheets beneath you. You didn't know how to react at this point.

He stepped closer until he was looming over you, his shadow engulfing you in its darkness. Then, he reached down and began to trace the outline of your body with his fingers, starting at your neck and moving down to your chest.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice low and seductive.

You hesitate for a moment, but then you find yourself doing as he says, unable to resist his authority. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight before him, his gaze lingering on each part of your body that he intends to claim.

Finally, he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, his lips barely brushing against your skin. You tremble as he slowly makes his way up, his tongue tracing a path along the delicate flesh. Each touch of his lips and tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips reach your most intimate place, you arch your back, your breath coming in short gasps. You feel him tease you, his tongue flicking against you, driving you mad with desire.

Astarion smiles, a wicked smile, as he notices the effect he's having on you. He pulls back slightly, giving you a moment to catch your breath before he begins to devour you. His tongue plunges inside you, sending waves of pleasure through you that threaten to consume you.

You can't help but cry out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue moves inside you. You are completely at his mercy, your body arching and writhing as he takes you to heights you never thought possible. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with triumph. He leans down and kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

"Now," he says, his voice low and commanding, "It's time for you to learn what it means to truly be mine."

You nod, still reeling from the intensity of the experience. With one swift motion, he grabs your hips as he flips you over. You lay there a moment, listening to the ties of his pants coming undone.

He lifts you up and positions you at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs wide to reveal your vulnerability. His powerful hands grip your hips, and he begins to enter you slowly, his movements deliberate, almost intimate.

You gasp in pain, then pleasure, as the feeling of fullness envelops you, overwhelming your senses. He moves harder, faster, and you can't help but arch your back to meet his thrusts, moaning his name over and over.

He continues to dominate you, his voice a low rumble in your ear, promising you more pleasure than you ever thought possible. Your body responds, writhing beneath him, your hands clutching the sheets, your moans echoing through the dimly lit room.

"That's it, my love," he growls, his voice low and filled with lust. "Take it all."

His thrusts became more erratic, his breath ragged, and you felt his grip on your hips tighten. Astarion's eyes lock on yours, and you see the intensity of his desire reflected in them. With one final thrust, he groans your name, and you feel him spill inside you.

When you feel him slip out of you, you can't help but turn yourself around to face him. You were met with the unpleasant feeling of a sharp dagger being pressed against your chest.

"Astarion?"

"I know exactly what you are planning to do to me, Darling."

The dagger you had hidden in the pocket of your dress was the exact one that was being held against you.

"Please Astarion, it doesn't have to be like this!" You begin to cry. The man you once knew and loved had been left in that chamber.

"Oh, but it does have to be like this." He presses the dagger a little harder causing you to wince in pain. "You were the last person I expected to betray me."

"Betray you?" You choke out, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, Darling." Astarion's voice is cold and murderous, and you can see it in his eyes. "We both know that's a lie."

He steps closer, the dagger still pressed against your chest. You can feel the cold metal prick you, causing you to jolt in pain.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice barely above a whisper. "What did you plan to do to me?"

"You are becoming exactly like Cazador, Astar-"

"Don't ever mutter his name in here again!" His voice seized with venom. "I am more than he ever was! Smarter, Powerful."

His grip tightened around the dagger, its edge digging deeper into your flesh, drawing a thin line of blood. Your heart raced with fear, but you couldn't help but retort, "And yet, you still lack control."

As he raises the dagger back to plunge it into your chest, you quickly maneuver and shove him into the bed without second thought. The knife falls from his hand and slides onto the floor near your feet.

You take a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. This situation has escalated far beyond what you had anticipated, and now you need to act quickly to save yourself.

Staring into Astarion's eyes, his murderous intent shining back at you. With a surge of adrenaline, you push yourself off the bed and lunge for the dagger on the floor. You manage to grab it just as he jumps to his feet, ready to pounce.

With the dagger in hand, you cautiously back away from him, trying to keep your distance. "Listen to me, Astarion," you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the trembling in your body. "You have hurt me beyond words can explain! I have had enough!"

"I have given you everything you have ever wanted!"

"And yet you have taken everything I needed!"

Astarion's eyes narrowed at your words, and he took a step towards you, menace radiating from him. You raised the dagger in front of you, preparing to defend yourself if necessary.

"You betrayed me, Darling. You lied to me, and now you want to take my life?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I never wanted this! I just wanted.. I just wanted you to be the person you were before, but you've become someone else. Someone I don't recognize."

"I was always this person!" He shouts, you see his hands shaking with anger. "You could not change that even if you tried."

Astarion took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching. You knew he was about to do something that would change the course of both of your lives.

"I'm tired of being your spawn, Astarion."

With that, Astarion lunged at you. The dagger that was held tightly in your hand was raised as you plunged it into his heart. His eyes widen in shock, his breath catching in his throat as the cold steel and wood pierce his chest.

Blood spills from his mouth before he speaks. "I thought you loved me."

"I did love you." You sob, "But I knew for a while that you truly didn't love me."

You watch as his body convulses for a moment before going limp. You step back, staring at the lifeless form before you. The room is silent, only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the space.

Taking a deep breath, the shock of the moment is still fresh in your mind. You never thought it would come to this.

You sink to your knees beside his body, the weight of what you've done heavy on your chest. The blood is still warm as you reach down to touch it, a single tear falling onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry, Astarion," you whisper. "But I had to do it. I had to save you from yourself."

Slowly, you rise to your feet, your legs shaking with the realization of what you've done. You take in the scene before you, the remnants of your love now tainted with blood and death.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe away the blood from your hands, leaving behind a red smudge on the wall. You grab armor from the wardrobe before finally leaving the palace. When you reached the door and opened it, the cool day air felt cool against your skin.

Looking back one final time, you realize just how trapped you had been. Now free, you felt the weight of sadness as you set out on your own once again. You would never let this happen again.

Taglist: @fruityrituals @guacam011y

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solomons-finest-rum · 1 year

Note

Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days.

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic.

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie.

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant:

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly.

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy.

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in.

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

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ackermanbloodline · 9 months

Text

Paperwork (Part III) - Levi Ackerman x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warning: Gory/violent imagery ahead.

Read Part I

Read Part II

* * *

The ride to the old Scout Regiment headquarters is quiet except for Oruo, who gives a briefing to the entire squad about the headquarters’ history. He also gives Eren some shit for being a “greenhorn,” which he probably needs. You don’t intervene. You remember those days and look back on them with fondness.

You make an active effort to avoid Levi’s gaze like the plague, although you can’t help but notice that his scowl is a little more pronounced than usual today. You aren’t sure if it’s from a lack of sleep or your presence. Perhaps a little bit of both.

You spend the entire day cleaning the headquarters with the squad. You hardly exchange any words with anybody, considering you’ve never met any of them, except for Eren. You both exchanged formalities after he introduced himself to you. Although he fit the stereotypical awkward teenager archetype, he was polite and formal.

In the evening, you continue work by yourself to clean the room that Levi had assigned to you. Meanwhile, Eren and Petra hold a conversation as to how Levi got into the Scouts. You always wondered that yourself but knew it was none of your business. You try not to eavesdrop and you only catch an occasional word here and there: rogue, commander, black market. Then it goes quiet.

Suddenly, the Captain’s words to Eren boom throughout the corridors and hallways, making you jump.

“Your cleaning is lamentable. Back upstairs, now.”

You wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of Levi’s wrath like that. So just when you think the room is clean, you clean it again just to be sure. Your fingers are sore and red, even some of your skin peels off as a result of your labor. Sweat gathers at your hairline and at the small of your back.

As you are scrubbing the underside of a table, you see darkness creeping into the corners of your vision. You take a few deep breaths and close your eyes for a moment, swallowing a thick wad of saliva.

Everything is fine. I’m fine.

Those are your famous last words for when you shakily stand up, everything goes black.

* * *

You stir awake and are immediately greeted with a sharp pain behind your eyelids. The room is lit with a dim flickering of a candle on the side of the uncomfortable bed you are currently laying on.

Wh… I don’t remember going to bed… How long have I been sleeping? Shit.

You look out the open window across the room and the sky is dark, the paleness of the moon illuminating the chipped window pane. After rubbing your eyes tiredly, a familiar dark figure leaning up against the wall with his arms crossed catches your attention.

It’s gotta be…

“Levi?” you question groggily, squinting at him. “What happened?”

“Well, would you look at that? Sleeping Beauty’s finally woke up.”

He takes a few steps towards you, pulling a stool out from beside the nightstand and sitting at your bedside. You lean up in bed despite the raging headache that’s making your head throb. You hold your head in your hands, but still make an effort to carry a conversation with him.

“Agh. You didn’t kiss me or anything, did you?”

Levi’s expression remains stoic at your attempt at a joke. He almost seems like a different person compared to last night. Still, your lips curl upward slightly at him.

“Not even sleep deprivation has an effect on your humor, or lack thereof,” he pauses and you laugh weakly. “I called everybody down to have a meeting to find you passed out. You’ve only been resting for about an hour or two. When’s the last time you slept?”

You genuinely try to answer Levi’s question, scouring one side of your mind to the other, and you come up with nothing. A few days ago, at the very least. You hang your head low and a deep pain shoots throughout your skull and you wince. You curse under your breath.

You squeak, “A while.”

Levi sighs loudly.

“Your lack of commitment to humanity is deplorable. It’s almost like you want to be kicked out of the Scouts.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. The tension in the air between you two instantly becomes almost suffocating. And not the good kind.

“Excuse me?”

“You could’ve busted your head open today, consider yourself lucky. But if you had even the slightest damn bit of sense, you’d make a better effort to take care of yourself.”

“Oh yeah? Riddle me this, Levi, when’s the last time you slept? Or ate anything for that matter? Nothing like the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” his voice begins to rise. “You are under my authority now, whether we both like it or not. And this is about you and your carelessness. First it was the paperwork and now you’re missing squad meetings. What’s going to happen next? Getting eaten by a titan?”

Both of you go quiet, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. You stare at him in shock, not believing the words he just said to you. Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you look away from him, closing them as you speak. You take a steady breath in.

“Captain Levi,” you say, very lowly and as stable as you can. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

H��e gets up without another word, his footsteps echoing across the walls until the sounds disappear into the distance.

If there was ever a moment where you wanted to hide away from humanity forever, this would be it. You clench your hands together harshly below the blanket as they sit on your thighs, your nails biting into the flesh of your palms and manifesting as crescent-shaped indentations. Tears silently fall.

Fuck you, Levi.

* * *

Time goes by and contact between you and the Captain is very limited. You only speak to one another when necessary. Many things have happened: the captured titans, Sawney and Beane, are killed by a soldier, the 104th Cadets had their decision ceremony, and Hange has conducted experiments with Eren.

Today is the 57th Exterior Scouting Mission, which aims to plot a course from Calaneth District to Shiganshina District. There, in the basement, Eren’s home holds some sort of secret about the titans. That’s all the commander disclosed.

A certain nervousness always comes over you during excursions outside the walls, accompanied with shaky hands and a fast heart rate, but you have still somehow made it out alive. What would make today any different?

You are up earlier than the other members of Levi Squad. You feel fully rested today and better than ever. You tiptoe through the quiet halls and open the back door. You step outside and wiggle your toes in the grass while deeply breathing in the fresh air, enjoying this moment of peace in the preface of the havoc that is to come. The stars are still out but you can see the dark blue sky beginning to lighten. The rest of the squad should be up anytime now. Levi is probably boarded up in his room thinking about the expedition with very minimal sleep to go on for the day.

“You’re up early.”

Speak of the devil. You still stand with your back facing Captain Levi.

“As are you, per usual.”

“Listen, I want to apologize for what I said,” his voice is right next to you now, standing beside you and looking up at the sky. “It was out of line. And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for your apology, Captain Levi, but what’s done is done. Now, will you please leave me be so I can just have a moment’s peace?”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, but when he does, it’s quiet.

“Don’t be long.”

* * *

Later, you’re riding with the troop of horses as they charge through Calaneth District, which is in ruins. Buildings have collapsed. You even notice a few skeletons here and there lining the dilapidated streets. You don’t dwell on the thought of what kind of life used to live here. Some 100 soldiers are joining forces today. You note that most of them will not make it out alive and take in their determined, hopeful faces.

If only they knew what they are about to see.

“We’ve got a ten-meter closing in from the left!” Hange shouts to the others and proceeds to gush about her curiosity of the titans.

The support squad takes care of it and continues to engage in combat with approaching titans as the Scout Regiment continues its advance. You ride alongside Levi Squad and your attention remains unhinged, unlike Sasha’s, who is reprimanded for straying away from the troop’s focus of moving forward.

The loud clattering of hooves on the rough ground makes it hard for anybody to hear anything. But once the scouts reach titan territory, you see Commander Erwin whip his left arm out as a signal.

“Long-range formation, let’s go!”

Commander Erwin’s formation method has been proven to lessen soldier casualties during scouting missions like this. The signal flares were shown to be useful so he could adjust the formation accordingly. And so far, it’s working. Green smoke signals pierce the partly cloudy sky in the distance to the right as Levi Squad continues on horseback. “Uruo, pass it on,” Captain Levi commands.

“With pleasure, sir!”

After Uruo follows the order and fires a green flare, it’s quiet for a few moments. Eren looks deep in thought. All the others do, too. And you were sure that you all are thinking the same thing: how is the situation, really?

“Reporting, sir!”

Everyone’s attention turns to the voice, a lone male soldier riding alongside your squad.

“An oral message: it appears the right-wing spotters have been wiped out! The early warning network is compromised! One of you will need to relay the message down the line!”

“You heard the man, Petra. Go on.”

You attempt to recall who was in the right wing. You only remember one soldier in particular: Armin, Eren’s best friend. You turn your head towards Eren and he looks horrified, sweat running down his face but his countenance is still decisive and purposeful.

You are ripped out of your thoughts when you see streams of black in the sky, much closer than the green smoke signals you saw just a few moments ago. Too close.

This mission is going to hell...

Eren gasps in horror, “An abnormal!”

“Eren, fire the signal.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

It’s only an hour into the scouting mission before the formation completely breaks up. Commander Erwin gives the order that only the center rank is to enter the Forest of Giant Trees while the others go around and guard for other titans. You have so many questions running through your head and no answers. You stare a hole into the back of Captain Levi’s head, as if to try to get into his brain for answers.

What in the hell is actually happening? How many soldiers have we lost already? What are we doing? What kind of abnormal is the Survey Corps dealing with to cause this much disorder? What’s the plan? Does Captain Levi even know what’s going on?

Still, Levi Squad remains rigid, despite the formation being destroyed. The horses run together through the forest on a trail, your surroundings darkened by the trees that surround you.

“Captain! Captain Levi!” Eren calls out. “C’mon, sir, we’re in a forest! We won’t see a titan ‘til it’s right on top of us! The center rank’s totally cut off! Something’s coming up on the right, isn’t it? So what’re we supposed to do, avoid titans or defend the wagons?”

“Quit whining and move on from the obvious already,” Captain Levi spits. “Neither of those is an option anymore.”

“Wha—? What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you noticed what’s around you? Take a look at these big ass trees.”

All of you avert your gaze upward, looking at the dark, humongous trees surrounding you. Silver sunlight leaks in from the branches and leaves. It’s a—

“Perfect environment for ODM gear, wouldn’t you say? Take my advice, Eren. Calm down and use your head. The best survival tool is your brain.”

“Yes, sir!”

You look around the squad and see everyone’s faces scrawled with fear. Your stomach feels like it has a rock in it and your palms are clammy. Although nobody has any idea of what’s going on, you trusted Captain Levi and his leadership, even if you don’t understand it.

A black plume of smoke reaches over the trees. Eren and Uruo comment on it before Captain Levi gives the squad an order between gritted teeth.

“Blades drawn, now!” Captain Levi looks behind you as he draws his weapon in a strange way. “It’ll happen in the blink of an eye, be ready.”

The tension in the air is thick, but everyone still presses forward. A soldier appears from the trees with his blades ready, but is smashed to the ground from a quick swat of the titan’s hand, which is sprinting at full speed towards you and the others. It was a female titan with blonde hair and no skin. The ground shakes as it continues to run.

As the squad progresses further, the Female Titan brushes over you and your comrades, almost grabbing Eren. It’s clear now he is the target and she’s intelligent.

You swear you feel your heart stop. And your last thought is the ravenhead with the undercut you spent last night with.

Levi.

You feel everything tumble around you. It happens so fast, you can’t even register it until you’re on the forest floor, on your stomach, looking up at the Female Titan, who is still chasing Levi Squad. It disappears into the distance. It had knocked you off your horse since you were towards the back of the group. Thankfully you landed in an overgrowth of ferns, so it couldn’t spot you to squash you. Besides, it is clearly too focused on capturing Eren to bother.

You are nothing but lucky. From what you can tell, all you sustained from the assault was a cut, spanning from your upper lip down your chin. It’s going to undoubtedly leave a scar. The taste of blood assaults your mouth and you try to wipe off what you can with the back of your sleeve. You hear a faint whinny nearby and shakily stand up. You do a once-over on yourself and notice that none of your bones are broken. But you are beyond sore and a sharp pain spreads across the side of your ribs. Maybe a fracture.

You find your horse nearby in a pool of blood against a tree, somehow still alive. Parts of her ribs had pierced out from her skin. She draws labored, agonizing breaths. With tears in your eyes, you approach it slowly so you don’t further startle her. You run your hand across her warm muzzle and forehead with affection.

You had the same horse since joining the Scouts, she had been with you through it all. She has been the only stable thing in your life. You recall the nights when you would sometimes sneak out with some oats and feed her as a treat. And this is how she is going to die.

Your voice cracks as hot tears run down your cheeks, “I’m sorry.”

You stand back up, pull out your pistol from your hip, and look away before shooting her in the head. She goes quiet and limp. The rustling of the greenery cushioning her stops. You don’t bother looking at the corpse. Instead, you close your eyes and unhook your cloak from your uniform. You drape the material over the body. You pay your respects for just a moment and press forward.

Your head turns from one direction to the other, trying to search for any sort of indication of the squad returning. Or anyone, for that matter. You lie there for a moment and it becomes clear to you that nobody is coming to save you or check for survivors. At least right now.

You stay within the confines of the dense forest floor in order to keep a cover from any potential titans that might show up. Following the trail to the right, you begin to run. Your legs propel you forward and your heart begins to speed up with the increased physical demand. Your ribs hurt like hell, causing you to wheeze and cry out in pain. Your lungs burn with exhaustion.

You can practically hear a few of Captain Levi’s snide remarks echo in your mind during the last few weeks of training. You use them to keep fighting. “That all you got, brat? I’ve seen turtles travel faster than you … You’ll never be able to outrun anything at this pace … Twenty more laps around the yard for your insolence … First it was the paperwork and now you’re missing squad meetings. What’s going to happen next? Getting eaten by a titan?”

You say, aloud this time, “Fuck you, Levi.”

A dark flame of anger sparks in your chest and spreads throughout your entire system. Your legs make longer strides, your breathing reaches a measurable and steady pace, and your speed picks up. Even though it might not seem the healthiest, this is what is keeping you alive.

A few moments later, you hear someone fire what seems to be an acoustic shell. You are familiar with the high-pitched ringing noise and when you look up, you don’t see any smoke at all. An acoustic shell is rarely ever shot off, so you don’t know what situation would have prompted it.

The sound sure as hell isn’t close but you are capable of running that far if you absolutely have to. After all, you have no other choice.

Another ten minutes goes by and you still can’t see any sign of any soldiers. What’s more odd is that you haven’t seen any titans, either. Not a single one. There’s something strange about this mission in particular… the silence surrounding it is louder than usual. You try to contemplate what kind of cargo was in the wagons that the center rank was hauling and if it was going to be used for the mission.

It’s no use trying to guess or conspire. Right now, I just need to get out of here alive. That’s what I need to focus on.

You press on.

You stop in your tracks shortly after when you come across a bloody corpse on the path in the middle of the road, which looks contorted, unnatural. Bending all the ways it shouldn’t be. The Female Titan is not taking any prisoners today. You slowly approach it. The person’s eyes are popped out of their head and strings of bloody, busted bowels are partially forced out of the mouth. Flies are already laying waste to it.

You nearly gag at the sight, but their ODM gear, somehow, looks seemingly intact.

That’s your ticket out of here.

You hesitantly reach down and pry the gear off the body, trying your best to brush off the blood and flesh off it. It appears fully functional, with the exception of a few dents and scratches. After, you gauge the gas. Almost completely full. Before you take off into the trees above, you give a heartfelt salute to your fellow comrade, even though you cannot physically engage who it is. You are sure that once this escapade is over, the Scouts will come back and try to find all the bodies they can. Hopefully someone can identify them.

A series of loud booms shake the trees and reverberate through your feet. You nearly fall back down to the ground with the sound. It’s not as far away as the acoustic shell was earlier. You are making leeway. Slow progress? Sure. But progress is progress.

The wind flies through your hair as you use the gear, which is infinitely much faster than on foot. Trees whoosh past you in a blur. You keep an eye out for any other bodies as you progress in case your gas becomes depleted. You continue forward until there’s a loud voice that comes from below you. It echoes in your eyes. Dropping your altitude, you land swiftly on the ground and look around.

“Hello?” You call out.

“Please…”

The weak, hoarse voice comes from behind you. You backtrack, looking for anyone in the bushes and the ferns. You push past foliage. Nothing.

You shout again, “Where are you?”

“Here…”

It sounds further back into the trees. You run as fast as you can, charging full speed towards the sound. Finally, you manage to find a woman hunched against a rock. Blood has dripped all down onto her face and continues into her neck. A large branch is thrust into her abdomen. You run over and perform an exam on her to get an idea of her condition. Both her legs are broken. This is confirmed when you ask her to wiggle her toes and her muscles are unresponsive. Her ODM gear is inoperable, also.

The situation isn’t good. But you’re going to make the most of it. The only silver lining of this situation is that her tanks are also pretty full. You swap them out for your old ones, which are about 50% capacity.

You look at her, “What’s your name?”

“Gemma.”

“Alright, Gemma, I’m gonna get us out of here,” you vow. “Here, wrap your arms around my neck.”

The soldier does what she’s told and despite her injuries, she holds on without an issue. Eventually, you can see the figure of the Female Titan in the distance. But it isn’t running. She’s staying completely still. And its arms are raised… to protect its nape?

Another round of extremely loud explosions happens and this time, you can hear Commander Erwin’s voice directing the Scouts. Despite the shakiness it causes as you fly through the air, you remain steady. Even with a wounded soldier on your back.

While you are conscious of your gas usage, you feel the need to get there faster. Gemma’s blood soaks in through your clothes. You can feel the warm stickiness on your lower back. And her grip is lessening on your neck.

“Hey, how you doing back there?”

“How... much... further...?”

“Not far. C’mon, stick with me.”

Some of the Scout Regiment scattered in the trees and look down on the Female Titan with anger and resentment, who is paralyzed with some sort of trap system. It is stabbed from head to toe with restraints. As you get closer and closer to the area, your heart speeds up in your chest. Some soldiers can hear you coming, thanks to the whizzing of the wire and the expulsion of gas, and turn around to spot you.

“Two soldiers incoming!”

You breathe a huge sigh of relief. If it wasn’t for your fallen comrades, you never would’ve made it back alive. You look towards the blue sky above and give a silent thank you to them. You hook onto the tree where some are standing and your body collapses on the giant branch. Gemma lays beside you, on the verge of passing out. A small pool of blood lurks from her belly and absorbs into the tree.

You muster up the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to survey the situation. Almost immediately, you spot Captain Levi. He is a few trees away and his attention turns to yours. When he does, his mouth drops slightly and his eyes widen. His shoulders relax a little, but there is still clear concern written all over his face. Your body gives out again, causing you to slam your face against the harsh, unforgiving bark.

“Holy shit,” you hear someone swear. “What happened?”

You look up and place a hand on the wounded woman’s back.

“This is Gemma, she needs medical attention.”

“We’ll get her to a wagon and see what we can do,” a man approaches you as a few others take her away. “Do you need medical attention as well?”

“No, I’m fine,” you shakily stand up, ignoring his extended hand, and draw your blades.

“The cut on your face looks pretty nasty, you really should—”

“I said I’m fine. Mission status?”

“The Female Titan has been restrained. I believe Captain Levi is about to cut it open and find out who’s inside.”

You look down on the Female Titan, whose face has fear written all over it. Its eyes are bulging and its body is stiff. It all clicks together.

This was a setup. Commander Erwin must’ve suspected there was a spy. That’s the only logical explanation. He had prepared in case an intelligent titan got in the way during the scouting mission… and that’s exactly what happened. Do you agree that keeping almost everyone else in the dark about it was a good idea? No. But it’s what had to be done to keep the plan from being sabotaged.

Captain Levi was undoubtedly in on it if that’s the case. Those two are practically attached to the hip. But why weren’t you informed of this? A twang of anger breaks loose in your stomach but you contain it. For now.

Speaking of the captain…

“Do you happen to know where Levi Squad went?”

“They were ordered to take Eren and hide him away from the Female Titan.”

Fuck. So they can be anywhere. The best thing to do now is to wait here and regroup later.

You see two whirlwinds of color spin through the air and lower down onto the Female Titan’s nape. Everyone leans forward to get a better look at what’s happening. But a loud clanging pierces the air and blades go flying, leaving the soldiers with stubs for weapons. Blue shimmers of glass glide down from the air as a result of the contact. Their attempt to pierce the nape appears to be unsuccessful.

Everyone looks confused.

You see now that the two figures are Miche and Captain Levi. Miche falls back on a nearby branch, where you see the commander standing. You see Commander Erwin give some type of order, but you can’t make out what it is. All you can see at this time are soldiers preparing the artillery for something.

Meanwhile, the captain swings around and landed on top of the Female Titan’s head. It’s so quiet, but you can hear Captain Levi murmuring to the titan.

“What’s happening?” You question out loud.

Nobody responds. Nobody knows. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You nearly fall down when the Female Titan takes a huge inhale and wails at the top of its lungs, adjusting her head upward to gain more volume. Your hands immediately fly to your ears, still gripping the blades, and your eyes snap shut. Even with them being covered, you hear a distinct ringing and your eardrums sting with pain. It’s deafening and causes a wind to stir throughout the area. The ground even shakes. The scream lasts at least ten seconds. Then it goes completely quiet.

Everyone around you is shuttering and reeling from the disturbing screech, staring at the titan in shock. Your gaze returns to Captain Levi, who still remains calm.

There are a few moments of quiet until you can feel the earth starting to shake again.

The commander shouts, “Faster on the artillery, gentleman! Wagon defense squad, intercept now!”

The defense squad goes to attack the three incoming titans that are sprinting full speed towards everyone, but the titans completely ignore them. Instead, they head straight for the Female Titan. You hear the soldiers cry out Captain Levi’s name, who is still standing on its head with three raging titans coming toward him.

You almost rush in to try to help him, but he’s already got it covered when he slices through all of their napes in just a second. You have never seen him in combat before, at least in person, and all the things everyone says were right. His combat skills are beyond anything you’ve ever seen. You are no longer curious as to how Captain Levi has earned his title of Humanity’s Strongest.

A much smaller titan begins to chew at the Female Titan’s shin. Titan-on-titan cannibalism was not something you’d ever heard of in all your years in the Scouts. More and more titans are coming from every direction. You can’t even count.

“All hands, commence combat! Defend the Female Titan at all costs!”

And just like that, you are down with everyone else, fighting to protect the one thing that almost killed you. Almost killed Gemma. Killed your horse and your comrades. You channel your rage into each and every titan, assisting and killing all titans you possibly can. From the titans consuming the Female Titan’s flesh to the Survey Corps slaughtering an endless succession of titans, it’s a literal bloodbath.

You even help Captain Levi kill a few titans. He looks to you quickly and nods, as if he is implying a thank you.

You reciprocate the gesture until you are caught in a crossfire of a titan’s hand as it swings back to hit one of your comrades. You are thrown, once again, to the forest floor and land on something hard that knocks the wind out of you completely. You want to scream out, but can’t. Your body struggles to inhale when you open your mouth to breathe, your eyes bulging with fear. It feels like you’re being strangled by an unseen force.

The wind has been knocked out of you. Hard.

“Shitty fucking brat,” you hear a low voice curse. You turn towards the voice and find Captain Levi kneeling beside you. The only noise you can make in response is quiet squeaks of air. You grab at your chest and stomach and press down, trying to get your diaphragm working again. “I’m gonna pick you up.”

When he does, sharp streaks of pain course through your entire system and you finally regain the ability to scream. Captain Levi doesn’t even jerk back or anything. In fact, he remains more vigilant than ever.

Tears run down your face and you wheezily gasp for air, finally being able to breathe again. Darkness creeps in in the corners of your vision. Your eyes flutter closed and sleeping has never sounded better. Everything sounds muffled.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he commands, followed by your name, snapping you out of your impending sleep. You look up at him and see his eyes watering ever so slightly. “When've you taken the easy way out of anything? Don’t start now. That’s an order.”

You laugh weakly, even though it hurts, as he calls over some other soldiers to come help. A harsh burning spreads across your ribs again. You have never been in this much pain. It’s like a white heat taking over your entire system. It’s too much for your body to handle. You just want to sleep and become numb to the pain.

“I must get my sense of humor from you,” you wheeze, trying to focus your vision on him. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“No. You are not dying today. I won’t allow it.”

Captain Levi places his head against yours after planting the softest kiss to your hairline. A warm feeling spreads through your fingertips and toes.

“C’mon, stay with me.”

You want more than anything to answer him, but everything becomes blurry and dark. Your hearing starts to go out again. You look up toward the trees as you can hear Captain Levi shouting at the other soldiers to hurry.

And then it’s dark and your body goes limp.

* * *

Read Part IV

277 notes · View notes

sweetercalypso · 6 months

Note

🫐 decorating the Christmas tree with Joel

Home for Christmas || Joel Miller

word count: 0.5k

The Millers’ house has never been this busy.

Boxes full of seasonal decor lie scattered around the room, gold and silver tinsel peeking out of the mess like twinkling lights against the cluttered backdrop. The nativity set Joel had inherited from his parents sits half-finished in the foyer, chipped figures added to the scene as Sarah pulls them from their delicate newspaper wrappings.

In the kitchen, Tommy pours himself a homemade concoction of peppermint something and hums along with the cheery hymn ringing through the house. The radio plays exclusively Christmas music this time of year, and as much as the Millers like to complain about others’ excessive Christmas spirit, they can’t deny their love for the season.

The fresh-cut tree in the corner of the living room is tall enough that it skims the ceiling, still smelling of fir and camphor, dropping a ring of pine needles on the hardwood floor.

Tommy and Joel had insisted on cutting their own tree this year, but it was Sarah who’d picked the oversized winner from the lot, proud to have found the perfect fit for the house. When you’d brought the tree home, it’d barely fit through the front door.

A constellation of lights and shiny garland decorate the many branches, twisting around the tree in an awkward spiral that you’d given up on keeping straight halfway down. It looks nicer this way, you tell yourself. More personal.

“Careful with this one, it’s seen better days.”

Joel hands you a thin paper mâché ornament in the shape of a snowflake, one of the many school crafts he’d kept from Sarah’s elementary years. Her handywork covers half the face of the tree, along with a handful of ornaments from Tommy and Joel’s youth that had somehow stayed intact long enough to continue this tradition.

You accept the ornament and find a place for it between a faded plastic reindeer and an angel dusted with white glitter. All of the Millers’ ornaments have a story behind them, each a sentimental piece of their combined history. You hope your future additions are handled with as much care as the ones cradled in Joel’s loving grasp.

He hands you the last of the ornaments and takes a step back to admire the whole picture, nodding to himself with one hand tucked in the pocket of his jeans. When you’re satisfied with the arrangement, he motions you over to join him and wraps an arm around your waist.

This is exactly how holidays are meant to be spent. Not a big display of wealth or flashy celebrations, but cherished moments with the people you care about most.

Joel’s still admiring the tree when you turn to face him, eyes lit with the glow of the room.

“Hey, you still haven’t told me what you want for Christmas.”

Joel purses his lips in thought, patting your hand that rests comfortably on his chest. He’s too content to think about presents right now; there’s not a single thing he needs.

He shrugs and presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re here. Sarah’s here. Tommy’s here. Nothing could make me happier.”

165 notes · View notes

mangowafflesss · 4 months

Text

HATRED FOR YOU | PART 4

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Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Writer!Reader

Summary: You spend the day with Simon [Simon performing multiple book boyfriend activities]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

{Tags: @dontyouworrydaddy @chrrybl0ss0m @skulfan1 @lialacleaf @ghosts-cyphera @delaynew @arminarlertssword @vynz0ne @the-faceless-bride @plk-18 @gluttonybiscuits @jinxxangel13 @redrumarsenic @redheaded-hobbit }

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Simon opened his metal mailbox with the key and grabbed the contents inside before locking it shut. He flicked through the letters quickly before his eyes lit up at the brown package in his hands. He doesn't bother waiting for the elevator to come and instead bolts it up the stairs, skipping a couple at a time till he reaches his floor.

He fumbles with his keys to his front door and eventually drops them on the floor, with a huff he bends down to pick them up and as he does he hears your door open.

“Oh, morning neighbour” he heard you say in a strange country accent. He peered at you over his shoulder to acknowledge your presence and stopped when he saw you dressed like you’re about to fight off the biggest breeze in history.

Turning around fully he cocks his head to the side as he takes in your appearance, a massive scarf is wrapped around your neck almost covering your mouth and a matching hat sits upon your head. A woolly, knee length coat swallows you and he watches as you pat your pockets with an annoyed huff.

“It's not that cold today” he states and you stop your pocket tapping before returning your attention to him. “It says it's going to snow today. Can't be too careful with the weather” true, but also Simon can’t remember a time when it had ever been that cold when living here, but he doesn't know what people feel.

You unlock your front door with slight annoyance before picking up your gloves you left inside and place them safely in your pocket while you lock the door back up again. When you return back onto the landing you notice Simon is still standing where you left him, your gaze lands on the brown package nestled under his armpit and you nod your head towards it.

“What've you got in there?” you ask while pulling on your gloves. He lifts it from under his arm and waves it “A book” you hum softly and see the faint sticker that has your publishing logo printed on it peeking through a gap in his fingers. “I hope you enjoy it” you take a step towards the doors of the elevators and hear Simon move behind you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, curious as to where you’re about to spend your day. “Why? You want to come with me?” you joke but he doesn't say anything so you clear your throat in the awkward silence. “I was going to go for a walk, clear my mind then perhaps stop by that new bookstore in town” he looks into the air as if he's picturing where the bookstore you’re talking about is and simply nods.

When he turns to his door, you move forwards towards him and as he gets through his door you catch his attention. “You could come with me, if you aren't busy. I could always use a second opinion when buying books” you smile and point towards the one still locked in his grip.

Please say yes, please, please, pleaseeee don't leave me here looking like an idiot (again).

“I'll come”

“Perfect”

You wait as he rummages through his apartment before coming back out with a jacket to put over his hoodie. You raise an eyebrow at him as you both walk towards the elevator doors, he presses the button and as you wait you speak “I thought you said it wasn't that cold?” you gesture to his jacket and he shrugs before answering “Maybe you might need it, I’m very considerate” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

He walks into the elevator and you follow closely behind. On the ride down it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence as it usually is when you’re with other people who live in the building.

The doors woosh open and you both walk towards the front door of the building. He pulled open the door and held it so you could walk through first. Saying a quick thanks, you go out into the street and wait for him to join you, it doesn't take him long due to his big strides.

You walk side by side down the street, cars drive past while birds fly over your heads with a small tweet. It was peaceful at this time of day and you loved it. There was a small breeze and the further you walked you realised that maybe you were being a little over dramatic with the accessories.

Not wanting to show he was right, you continue with the small conversation you were having while you walked through the town you lived in.

“So what you’re telling me is, you can’t tell me what you do but all I need to know is that it's dangerous?” you say slowly, trying to put his previous words together in your head. He hums softly and you look up at him with questioning eyes.

“Is this why I don’t see you very often?” he hums again and you scoff “You're a man of many words aren't you” another hum comes from mouth and you groan in fake annoyance.

“Well alright, I’m not telling you about my super dangerous job either” you say with a smirk on your face as you turn the corner to your favourite place.

You walk through the door with a smile on your face as you hear the very same jingle you always do. The overpowering smell of everything sweet just hits you and you turn to Simon who is looking at his surroundings.

“I know what you’re probably thinking… ‘What are we doing here? This is not part of the plan’ well Mr I don’t take shortbread from strangers, we’re here to get the very thing you’ve yet to try in my presence” you point to the display cabinet and smile brightly at the options.

“You really want me to try it don’t you?” You nod slowly with the same, slightly creepy, smile on your face. He sighs softly and gestures for you to move towards the counter that you’re not paying attention to.

When you turn around after the customers in front of you leave your body lights up. “Rocco! Your finest shortbread my good sir!” You pat the marble top and the man behind rolls his eyes “You’re very energetic this morning, does it have anything to do with the fella you walked in with” he points at you and then at Simon with metal tongs and you shake your head immediately.

“We’re neighbours” you say simultaneously and briefly glance at one another. Rocco puts his hands up in a defensive stance before returning to his task. “I wanted him to try your shortbread, he refused last time so I’m determined to shove it down his throat” you smile sweetly up at your neighbour who just playfully shoves your knee with his.

“Well, I hope he enjoys” Rocco pushes the bag Simon’s way and as you hand the money to the shop worker he shakes his head “You know everything’s on the house for you. Have a good day” you scoff before shoving the money into the tip jar like you always do and follow Simon outside.

Not even two seconds out of the door and you bounce on your heels and practically jump at the man next to you. “Try some!” You urge and watch him pull out a piece and put it in his mouth. You watch him intensely and see the change in his expression when he swallows the sweet treat.

“So…”

“It’s good”

“Just good?”

He hums and you punch him in the arm “You’re playing with me! Tell me how you really feel” you wait for him to answer you and as you do, you reach into the bag but before you get near it he holds it close to his chest “I thought these were for me?” He teases and you glare at him. “I hate you”

“Fine. They’re great, the best I’ve ever had” he admits in a rather unenthusiastic way but it’s probably the only answer you’ll get. “I knew you would”

The rest of the walk went well, you chatted about random subjects while spotting things in your environment. You both snacked on some shortbread and Simon broke the last piece in half to share so you’ll have ‘equal pieces’ even though you’re sure you had one extra than he did.

When you arrive at the new bookstore you’re blown away at the size of it.

“It has three floors?!” You pull on Simon’s sleeve as you look up at the other floors above. He follows your movements and takes a look at the sheer size of the place.

You browse through the many rows of books and skim through different pages of certain ones you’re thinking about getting, you ask Simon for his opinion and he says some very good points. Sometimes.

“It’s just another romance” he states and you look at him with a deadpan look.

“And?”

“You have three already, don’t you like any other genres?”

“Don’t you like romance?”

“Do I look like I read romance” he points to himself and you take a chance to look at him from head to toe very slowly while humming to yourself as if you’re thinking.

You already know the answer which is very amusing.

“I think you enjoy a good old romcom” you say while turning back to the shelf in front of you and reading the blurb of a book. You add it to your pile in your arms and leave him standing in the romance section to be with his thoughts.

You walk past a sign of worldwide best sellers and see yours at the top of the pile in all its glory.

“Have you ever read their books?” A voice says behind you and you nearly drop all the books in your arms. Swirling around you see Simon standing there with his hands in his pockets while reading the sign of best sellers.

Have you ever read their books? Yes, In fact I wrote them but no one knows it’s me because I’ve hidden my identity the entire time except from a select few.

“No, are they good?” You try to act normal but you’re most definitely not acting normal right now. Is it really hot in here all of a sudden?

“I love them. Mystery’s are my favourite” he answers and you point to a sign saying romance below the sign “oh yeah? And what does that say?”

“There’s a small amount of romance, it’s not entirely romantic”

“Mmhmm, okay lover boy. It’s okay to admit you like something you know” you laugh and he stands there with his arms over his chest like a toddler.

“C’mon lover boy! We’ve got another floor to explore” you shout over your shoulder as you walk towards the stairs leading to the higher level.

You move around the last floor with excitement, this is the darkest level. Low lights to match the content of the ink in the pages all around you. You readjust your grip on the books in your arm, which were getting heavy, and look in awe at the books around you.

The covers were decorated beautifully, the ends of pages were sometimes covered by the most beautiful colour of gold or red you’ve ever seen.

You bend down to pick a book off the bottom shelf and as you do so a book falls off your pile you created in your arm.

When you go to pick it up you’re already beat to it. “Pass them here” he reaches for the books in your arms and you don’t have a chance to do anything as he takes the pile from you.

“It’s okay, you don’t have-”

“Go pick whatever you want” he nods his head to the shelf and you give him one last look before piling more books into his arms.

You leave the bookstore with a bag full of new reads to put on your new shelf. Simon got one book which you paid for after a small fight in front of the cashier.

You both walk back to your apartment building, Simon holding the bag of books as if they don’t weigh a ton.

It was silent for a while until Simon decided to talk first. “How do you know Rocco?” He asks and you take in a deep breath before releasing it into the now frigid air.

“I was new to town. I was exploring and saw the bakery with only a few customers inside, I didn’t go in straight away. I waited a couple of weeks before I actually ventured inside and when I did it was amazing. He helped me when I couldn’t and I feel as if I owe him everything” you speak fondly of the man as you zone out of reality for a second.

“He seems like a nice bloke”

“Very. His wife, Steph, is lovely too. Sometimes I feel as if they’re my second parents” you laugh softly at memories of them in your head but they fade away as you feel something touch your nose.

Stopping for a second, you scan your surroundings and see small flecks of white fall softly in your vision.

“Oh my god! I was right! It’s snowing” you turn to Simon and see some of the snowflakes settling into his hair. His nose and cheeks are a little pink due to the temperature drop and you take in the scene for a second before carrying on your walk.

As you arrive at your building, you open the door this time and let Simon enter first. He dips his head to you and shakes his head to let the excess water weighing down his hair out. You let out a squeal and shove at him to move him.

“Hey! That’s not fair” you wipe the water from your face with a scowl but stop when you notice how adorable he looks right now. Messy hair, cold bitten face and a cheeky smile on his face.

Before you do something stupid you take off towards the elevator and press the button. He arrives next to you a moment later and you both wait before getting inside and riding up to your floor.

You silently tap your finger against your bag before hearing the familiar ding and the doors opening.

You both get out and you walk towards your door before hearing him clear his throat behind you. Turning around you see him holding up the bag of books into the air as if you had forgotten about them, his book already in his other hand.

Taking a step towards him you grab the handles and when you do you feel the coldness of his hands. “Your hands are so cold!”

“It is snowing outside”

Rolling your eyes, you can’t hide the smile on your face and retreat to your front door. “Thank you for the fun day”

“It’s my pleasure” he says before unlocking his door and disappearing inside, you do the same and get to work putting your new buys away.

Simon enters his apartment and spots the brown package still waiting for him on the table in his living room. Abandoning the new book he you bought, he goes straight for that and rips it open, eager to get inside.

The silvery cover shines brightly in his eyes and a small smile breaks out onto his face. Carefully opening the cover he’s met with something special.

To Simon,

Thank you for your support of loving Hatred for You! I hope you enjoy your special edition copy.

Lots of love, Y. N. ♡

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader

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