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space-mango-company · 16 days

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Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #atreides reader #dune #dune part two #space-mango-company #fic: stranger

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months

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Be a Good Teammate pt. 2

Jessie Fleming x USWNT!Reader (also Seattle!Reader)

Read Part 1

Warnings: none, this is a pretty relaxed chapter

WC: 2.8k

A/N: thank you so much for the support on what is now Part 1. Due to how many people requested a continuation of this fic, I figured I’d go for it! This is more of a filler/plot mover part of the story. There will be at least one more part that will be a lot more interesting but if there’s enough interest and I have the ideas, maybe it’ll be many more parts.

It had been a couple weeks since you had talked with Jessie on the field in San Diego. You haven't heard anything from her, not that you were expecting to after she had told you she had a lot on her plate. Not hearing from her had bothered you a bit in the beginning, thoughts of her constantly popping up in your mind. She was a minor distraction. As time went on and you didn’t hear from her you went back to the way you had been before you had seen her. You were able to brush off the thoughts of her easily, getting back into your routine as if you hadn’t even seen her.

Something deep down hoped you’d wake up to a text from her. That hope diminished as the days passed. It wasn't until the week before your team was supposed to take the trip to Portland to play that you heard from her.

Unknown: Hey, this is well overdue but I just wanted to apologize, I was rude to you after the gold cup game. Not an excuse but I was in a pretty rough state. Thanks for what you said too.

Unknown: by the way this is Jessie, I had to get a new number to use in the US. Feel free to delete my UK number. Keep the Canada one, I still use that.

Unknown: I got your number from Coffey.

Unknown: Hope that’s okay. You can just delete this number if you’d rather.

Reading her texts made you smile and let out a small laugh, she texted exactly how she would talk. You can practically hear her voice while reading through the texts, how she probably sat there overthinking each text only to then feel guilty for not just double or triple but quadruple texting you. You clicked on her number, changing her name in your phone to Jessie (USA).

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard as you thought about responding. Deciding against replying at the moment, you lock your phone again and climb out of bed. You throw on your clothes for training then head to your kitchen to make a quick breakfast and coffee.

Training was rough. It was less that the physical workout was hard, it had actually been a lighter day being only 2 days away from game day. It was rough because you couldn't focus.

Your mind kept drifting to the few texts you had received from Jessie. Had she been thinking about you all these weeks? Why did she wait so long? Maybe she was only thinking about you since you would be seeing her this weekend. But maybe she was thinking of you for other reasons. Maybe she was ready to start being friends? Maybe you could end up as more? All the thoughts related to her were swarming around your head, leading you to be in a fog at practice.

It was embarrassing to say the least, missing touches, overpowering or underpowering your passes, even tripping over your own feet a couple times. After you had fallen to your knees while doing individual dribbling drills, for the third time that day at practice Quinn stepped over to you extending their hand.

“Are you good?” Concern in their eyes as they pulled you up.

“Yeah, just in my own head today.” trying to give a convincing smile shaking your head at your own behavior. You had managed to push Jessie so far back in your mind for years, why was she messing with you now.

“Alright, if you need to talk let me know, or go see the psychologist. The team has them for a reason. We need you to stay on your feet Saturday.” They pat you on the back and go back to finish their dribbling drill.

“Thanks.” You gave Quinn a smile, knowing damn well you wouldn't bring yourself to talk with them. They were one of the best listeners on the team and had heard out your other issues, anxieties and just general venting. There was no way you were going to talk to Quinn about their own national team teammate. You didn’t need it coming back to Jessie that she was on your mind.

You were so thankful when you were called to huddle up and end practice. Heading back to the locker room you peeled your sweaty jersey off, throwing a sweatshirt on instead, grabbing your phone and heading to the trainer’s room. You greeted the staff, walking over to the ice bath and hopping in. The icy water causes goosebumps to appear across your skin. It felt good, you knew it would, you often would use a cold shower to clear your mind, but this counted as your recovery as well so it was a bonus. You stripped off your sweatshirt leaving you standing shivering in your sports bra. You took a deep breath and let your knees give, sinking your whole body under the water.

Under the water was peaceful, quiet, the freezing water causing your brain to go blank, no thoughts of the bad training, no thoughts of Jessie, no thoughts of what to make for dinner tonight, nothing. So you waited, sitting on the bottom of the tub prolonging your peace. Running out of air, you resurfaced to find a few teammates and members of the training staff to be looking at you. Feeling suddenly self conscious you grabbed your sweatshirt throwing it back on. “What?” you harshly asked in the general direction of your teammates. None of them responding, shaking their heads or just looking away.

Before you could make it out of the locker room you heard your name called and saw your coach standing behind you.

“Can you come to my office before you head out?” She asked.

“Yeah no problem, just give me a second to change my shorts, I’ll be right up.” You tried to appear calm on the outside. On the inside you were stressing. Why did she need to talk to you, maybe you were being traded and you'd be able to dodge Jessie longer. Maybe she was taking you off the travel roster, maybe she was going to yell at you for your performance today. You quickly changed into some dry pants and walked over and into the coaching office.

“Go ahead and shut the door.” She pointed behind you when you walked in. Her words make your stomach sink. You sat down, not saying anything, just looking at her across the desk. She finishes up something on the computer, hitting the power button and turning back to face you. She taps her hands on the desk and starts talking. “Look, I’m going to tread lightly here, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Your best attempt at a smile comes across your face.

“You realize why I have to ask, right?” you just nod at her question. “I don't mean to be crass but that was the worst practice you've had since you started here. I get it, everyone has an off day, but that to me looked like a lot more than just an off day.”

“I’m good, I just had a bit on my mind.” She wasn't telling you anything you didn't know but hearing her criticism of your performance hurt, you didn't want to disappoint her.

“Do I need to take you off of our roster for this weekend's game?”

“No!” You're quick to protest her offer. “I promise, I’ll have it sorted by then.” Not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or your coach at this point you keep talking. “You can count on me.”

“I want to believe that, I do. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt on this one, I’ll leave you on the roster, we really need you for this game, but I’d rather not put you out there if your performance is going to look like it did today.”

“Yes Coach, I understand. I’ll be good.”

She turns back to a stack of papers, grabbing off a small slip from the top. She hands it to you, you look at it recognizing the name and contact information of the team’s sports psychologist and the team’s standard psychologist. “Take this, I’m not saying you need to talk to anyone, but it's good information to always have.”

You look up from the paper, thinking it's silly how now two people had recommended that you needed professional help, all over the fact that you had a silly little crush on an old teammate.

“Thanks Coach, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You stood up pushing in the chair behind you, leaving her office. You walked down the hallway back toward the locker room to grab your bag. Before you head out you quickly pack your travel back, throwing in your boots, shin pads, extra socks, tape before dropping the bag at the front of the room where your teammates had placed theirs. You moved back

Part of you cursed Jessie for reaching out, you had been able to push your thoughts of her back in your mind after you had talked but now that she had reached out she was back in the forefront. Opening your phone as you walked out of the training facility, you opened your messages and clicked on Jessie’s name. You opened her contact, frustrated from your performance at practice and causing your coach to consider benching you, you wanted to blame it on her. You hover your finger over the delete button. You then moved your thumb to where it read Block This Number. Before you could think twice you pressed it, the messages from her disappearing, no trace of her new number on your phone. While you were at it you proceeded to delete her number from the UK. You left her Canadian number, she never used that one to talk to you, no harm in it staying. You were hoping blocking her new number would also block the thoughts of her.

You learned very quickly though the night that if anything, blocking her number made Jessie more prominent in your mind. She was in your mind while you drove home. You thought about her while you stood under the cold water of your shower, she was in your mind while you cooked. Trying to distract yourself you grabbed a book and the book worked. It kept Jessie out of your mind until you realized how much you liked the book, one of the best ones you had read in a while. You decided to open GoodReads, immediately closing it when the first thing you saw upon opening the app was Jessie’s name, she had recently rated a book. You had forgotten that you were even friends on the app, you hadn't read or rated a book in a long time. Deciding you’ve had enough, you pull yourself off the couch and into the bedroom to try and get some sleep.

Setting your alarm for the next morning, you climbed into bed, deciding to count sheep to prevent your mind from wandering. It took many minutes of tossing and turning before you were able to fall asleep. Despite the long day you had mentally and physically, sleep did not come easy. Unfortunately, once you were asleep, you didn’t stay asleep long, feeling restless when you woke up for the fourth time that night, the sky was still dark outside. You roll over checking the time 3:18am. Still half asleep you reach for your phone, sliding it open. Squinting at the bright light you find your settings, opening your list of blocked numbers, finding Jessie’s you click unblock. You open your messages, type in her name and then a message.

You: No problem, see you Saturday.

You're not sure what you're saying no problem to, if it's because she apologized, if it's because she thanked you for talking to her or if it's to the fact that she had asked Sam for your number. Sleep is still fogging your brain. You hit send, shut off your phone and roll over hoping you can get some more sleep before your alarm wakes you.

You wake up to the sound of your alarm. You gave yourself an extra hour in the morning to pack before you had to meet at the stadium to travel. You threw on your travel sweats and shirt before throwing an assortment of sweatpants, t-shirts, and shorts into a bag, not caring what you packed for the 3 day trip. Moving into the bathroom you packed your toiletries, before heading back to your bedroom to grab your phone and the charger.

Jessie (USA): See you Saturday.

You do a double take at the message, last remembering that you had blocked her number. You open it, seeing that you, in fact, had not blocked her but instead you had texted her at 3 in the morning. “Oh you idiot,” you insulted yourself. You threw your phone in your pocket while packing your charger in your bag.

It wasn't long until you were sitting on the bus, stretching your body across two seats, trying to get comfortable. The buses had to be one of the most uncomfortable parts of playing, unfortunately Portland was considered too close to justify a plane ride. You were reading over the itinerary that had been handed out. You were scheduled for a light practice this evening followed by designated stretching and recovery time, then it was dinner and lights out. Looking to Saturday you saw the early arrival time, the game starting at Noon, pitch walk just before that, and time to warm up. After the game you had recovery for an hour followed by the words “Free Time” It wasn't uncommon for you to get freetime after game days when you were traveling, it was nice to explore where you were playing or just getting to hang out, unregulated, with your teammates. Sunday consisted of a practice in the morning, then more free time, followed by the bus ride back in the evening. The large amount of free time on this trip caught your eye, giving you an idea as you dig your phone out from your pocket. You open it to Jessie’s messages again and start typing.

You: If you're up for it, dinner Saturday night?

You realize that feels a bit forward, adding a second message.

You: You can bring a teammate too if you want, it doesn't just have to be us.

Seconds after you send it you see the bubble indicating Jessie is typing pop up, you lock your phone and toss it as if it's on fire into the seat that your legs are resting on. You feel it vibrate against your calf, indicating she had responded. Instead of reaching for your phone you remain still, staring at it. It’s only once the phone vibrates again reminding you that you had a text that you reach and pick it up. Involuntarily you hold your breath and turn on the screen.

Jessie (USA): That would be nice.

The gray bubble appears again.

Jessie (USA): just us

You let the air out of your chest, feeling relieved at her response. She wanted to see you. She wanted to see you, just the two of you. A smile grows on your face as you read over her messages again and again.

You: sounds good, may need some recommendations on dinner locations

This time when you see her typing you hold onto your phone. Watching as the bubble appears for a few seconds before disappearing and reappearing

Jessie (USA): I’ll figure something out and let you know

You begin to type out “sounds like a date” before deciding that it’s a little too forward, against it, deleting it and changing it.

You: perfect!

You waited, seeing if she would respond, not that there was much to respond to but part of you hoped she’d say something else. When she doesn't you shut off your phone. You lean your head back so it rests against the window and you're looking at the ceiling of the bus. You let out a sigh of relief. It feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest for the first time in two days. You now knew she didn't completely hate you, you knew she was willing to let you talk with her again.

Feeling last night's lack of sleep catches up with you, your eyes close and you’re able to drift peacefully asleep, your brain no longer filled with anxieties or concerns about Jessie, you remain asleep until the bus stops and you hear your teammates gathering their belongings to get off the bus. You were finally in Portland.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #canwnt #canxnt #portland thorns #jessie fleming imagine

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pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb · 3 months

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Torn Apart Pt. 2- The Surgery

I decided to name the fic about the reader losing her arms! Also I found out recently that Law has gold eyes in the manga AND WHY DID THEY CHANGE THAT HOLY FUCCCKKK

Also thank y'all so much for the overwhelming support for this fic!

This chapter is a little shorter than the previous one, but leaves off at a good place!

Just to recap tho...MAJOR WARNING: THIS WILL (probably) TRAUMATIZE YOU. Reader will have PTSD, ANXIETY ATTACKS, AND BE VERBALLY ABUSED. But becomes besties with Franky so ya know... up to you.

TW's: talk of surgery, Luffy being supportive in his own (lecturing) way, descriptions of pain, panic attack and PTSD flashback at the same time (trust me it's not fun), learning to walk again, needles (medical setting)

Golden eyes pierced your faux air of confidence you put on to face the Surgeon of Death. You looked away, almost cowed by his evaluating gaze.

“So? What’s first?” you asked Law. He grunted a little.

“Lay down fully. Let me do a scan.”

You eased yourself down, and Chopper lowered the bed so it was flat. You heard his boots tap on the wood twice as he stepped closer.

“Room”

A blue spherical glow emanated from his palm, encompassing you, the bed and him at the same time, with your prone body in the middle. You swallowed hard, nervous. He unsheathed his sword. You knew from Zoro that all swords had a name, but you didn’t know the name of this one. Probably named it something edgy like “heart killer” or “death of hearts”, you thought to yourself. He hovered his hand down the length of the blade, covering it in a thin sheen of translucent blue before holding his sword above your body. Your eyes traced the metal of the blade, so long that you had to turn your head slightly to see the point reaching far past your shoulder.

“Stay still”, he ordered quietly. You snapped your head back to the original position, looking straight up at the ceiling, taking comfort in the familiar shield and knots in the wood above you.

“Sorry” you whispered. He didn’t say anything in response.

“Scan.”

The sword moved down your body steadily. He really did have the hands of a surgeon. His boots tapped as he shifted his body as his sword scanned yours. He reached your feet, finally lowering his sword, but didn’t release his Room.

“Tra-o” luffy’s voice piped up from the corner where he had been sitting quietly. He was the only one besides Chopper allowed in the room while he worked. His voice was strangely serious, and you couldn’t help but look over at him. His usual smile was replaced with a concerned frown as he met the surgeon’s gaze. Law sighed tiredly before turning back to you.

“You were hurt badly. It’s honestly a miracle you’re still alive.”

You kept your eyes on Luffy, taking comfort from his confident presence.

“I know,” you murmured. A brief silence followed, waiting for Law to continue.

“And you’re still hurting, in your heart.”

You flinched slightly at his words, sliding your shocked gaze to his.

“You can’t possibly know that” you breathed. He met your eyes steadily, unidentified emotion in his eyes.

“My abilities don’t lie,” he answered. You kept looking at him, silent and calculating. You took in his features properly, now seeing him in a relaxed environment and not pissed off at your captain for once. He stood with confidence, slightly slouched as he tucked his hand in the front pocket of his spotted jeans. His other hand held his sword, the blunt side of the blade now resting against his shoulder. His spotted hat was low on his forehead, but as he stood looking down at you, none of his features were shadowed. His sharp eyes were gold, ringed by dark circles and reddened by lack of sleep, but both of those oddly only added to his handsomeness. He had high, sharp cheekbones with sideburns by his double pierced ears and a defined jaw with a goatee. His expression was calm, instead of the usual scowl he wore around your captain. Your eyes traveled to his clothing, a relaxed long sleeve shirt with a low neck that allowed small peeks of his tattoos to show. Honestly, you didn’t know how you didn’t see it earlier. He was fucking hot. Heat rose to your cheeks and he smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. He probably did, the bastard.

“So did you see anything else? Can you do the surgery? Why is her heart hurting? Is it because of Zoro?” Luffy spoke, half demanding and half asking. Law's eyebrow twitched as he remembered your captain was in the room. Chopper was on Luffy’s shoulder, looking at him with wide eyes. At least those two were too innocent to know what happened between you and Law just then. Law turned to Luffy, his usual scowl returning to his face. Tension rose in his shoulders and the blue glow of his Room faded.

“I can do the surgery. It’ll be long, but it’ll be better for everyone, and be better quality. Not that you’re a bad doctor, Chopper-ya.” He spoke mainly to his fellow doctor, and the reindeer nodded.

“I’m less familiar with surgery than you. Let me know what you need!”

Law nodded in approval.

“If I’m doing the surgery, I’d like to do it in the operating room on my ship. I have my crew who are trained as a surgery team, my equipment, and I’ll need you and Franky-ya there too. You’re familiar with the patient and injuries and are able to tell me exactly what you did to treat it. Franky-ya can add his expertise on the machinery and his own body,” he said firmly. Chopper nodded seriously. It was adorable when he was in full doctor mode. Law turned to you.

“That is, if you’ll let me do the surgery.”

He looked at you expectantly, cocking his head as he waited for an answer. You suddenly realized even his voice was hot. You cleared your throat.

“Sure. Got nothing else to lose” you shrugged the best you could, and heat flared to your face a second time, embarrassed at your failed movement. Law only grinned in excitement and was about to respond when Luffy cut him off.

“No.”

You and the two doctors looked at him, shocked. A pang went through your chest. Was he not allowing you? Why? Did you do something wrong? Were you not worth it anymore?

“Mugiwara-ya-“ Law’s growl was cut off by Luffy speaking over him, his eyes meeting yours determinedly.

“You’re not going to do the surgery because you have nothing else to lose. You have everything and everyone else to lose. You have your life, and if you still have that, then you’re still fighting. You’re still winning. You still have something to lose. You have us. Zoro was an asshole and you never have to forgive him for that, but don’t you ever discount our loyalty to you. We are your family, and you're ours. This is your home. Say it. Say you have everything to lose!” He started yelling, and you struggled to sit up. Pain lanced through your chest and shoulders, making you bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“Luffy…” you said softly. He stalked forward, and Chopper jumped off his shoulder. A dominating aura was rolling off your captain. He crawled on your bed, and stopped with his face only inches away from yours.

“Say it.”

Fear and despair shot through your stomach. You were terrified of letting them down, that you already had.

“How can I when I can’t shake on it? When I can’t even reach out to grab your hand when you need it?! I’ve let you down, Luffy. I’ve let you all down!”

Luffy didn’t waver, on his hands and knees straddling over your legs so as to not hurt you. His eyes never left yours, even as he spoke to Law.

“Tra-o. Give us a minute. You too Chopper.” Neither doctor answered, but the door opened and shut, leaving you in silence. You looked down at the blanket pooled on your lap.

“You haven’t let us down, and no matter what Zoro or anyone says, you’re part of my crew. My family. You sacrificed yourself to save someone you love. If I ever needed a hand to grab onto, well, Robin can make more, right? And you’ll have yours back soon. So stop being depressed and say you’ll do the surgery because you want to get better and that you have everything to lose!” He shifted so he was kneeling over you, one hand settling on the back of your neck as he pushed your face into the crook of his neck. Tears welled in your eyes, falling onto his warm skin and wetting his red shirt. His other arm gently wrapped around your side and rested on your back, encompassing you in comfort. It’s the first hug you’ve had since the accident.

“Luffy I’m scared it’ll hurt. I’ve been in so much pain. It hurts so much” you sobbed, unsure if you were talking about your arms or your heart. He shushed you.

“I’ll kick Trao’s ass if he makes it worse, okay?” You nodded, trusting him with your life. You stayed like that for a while, until his shirt was stained with your tears and snot and your thoughts were mostly in order.

“I’ll do it. I want to live. I still have everything to lose” you murmured. Luffy’s hand squeezed the back of your neck briefly in acknowledgement. He pulled back, looking at your face.

“Your face has snot on it” he observed gleefully. You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“Yeah I know.”

His smile died as he brought the blanket to your face to wipe it. He was rough, pulling your skin just a little too hard, but that was your captain, so you didn’t mind.

“Promise me. Promise you want to live and that you’re doing the surgery because you have everything to lose.”

You smiled weakly up at him, but he saw resolve in your eyes.

“I promise.”

He smiled broadly before bringing his forehead down to meet yours. He still kinda bonked his head against yours, and he had a hard head, but he at least tried to be gentle. You giggled.

“This is how we promise now, okay? You and me. No hands or arms necessary.” He spoke quietly, uncharacteristic of his vibrant personality. The words shocked you with his wave of affection and love for you as a family member. You bit your lip to keep tears from welling up.

“Promise” you confirmed. He pulled back, a wide grin on his face.

“Great! I’ll go tell Trao to get ready to do the surgery!”

He bounded off your bed, making you wince at the sudden movement that rocked your body. You sucked in air through your teeth, and Luffy paused, looking back at you guiltily with his big brown eyes.

“Sorry”

You smiled, forgiving him easily.

“It’s okay. I’m due for my pain medication anyways. Can you tell Chopper?” You asked. Luffy nodded with a quick ‘yep!’ thrown over his shoulder as he sprinted out the door. You shook your head at the pure amount of energy that boy had.

Chopper returned a few minutes later and pattered around his work area, making fresh medicine for you.

“We have a good plan for the surgery now! We’re so lucky to have Law with us too! He’s so smart and good at medicine. His Devil Fruit ability is amazing to see in a medical setting!” He continued to blabber on about how excited he was, but you couldn’t shake the nervousness of going into surgery again for something so life-changing after experiencing trauma. A straw and some pills were shoved under your nose, and you opened your mouth to let the doctor pop in the medication and you sipped some water to swallow it. You laid back down, flinching at how sore you were. A groan escaped your lips as your body finally rested on the soft pillow and mattress, waiting for the meds to kick in as you drifted off to sleep.

Your nap wasn’t long, an hour or two at most. A screech from the deck startled you awake as adrenaline pumped through your body. Your shoulders and ribs screamed in white hot agony at the sudden movement as you shot upright, making you groan loudly with pain. I need to cover him. I need to save him. He can’t cut it. He can’t cut an explosion I need to save him I need to save his dream my arms are gone it hurts it hurts it hurts-

The kitchen door opened quickly as you curled up painfully as you started gasping in ragged, quick breaths, barely exhaling before gasping again.

“Hey, hey mon Cherie” Sanji’s deep voice made you alert to his presence, but didn’t distract you enough to snap you out of your panic attack. Hands settled gently on your back and you jerked away, not wanting to be touched by Marines. Not when they took so much from you already.

“I’ll get Franky,” he said quickly. Footsteps disappeared quickly as he swung open the door and ran to find someone. You’d already forgotten who, and the open door was too open. You needed to hide but you couldn’t move. Your breaths were controlling you, burning pain making you whimper. You wanted to hide your head in your arms but they were gone.

Too much it’s too much it hurts hurts hurts I can’t do it I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t do it gone gone they’re gone I can’t they’re gone. I can’t do it again I can’t do it again I can’t do it again.

“Oi” a gravelly voice. You screamed a little as your head whipped around to the sound, fully expecting to be yelled at by Zoro again, maybe he’d hit you this time. Your wild eyes finally focused on Franky, and your tension eased a little, not seeing the swordsman standing above you. Franky blinked steadily at you. He’s safe. He’s good. Good.

“F-f-f-rank-k-ky” you forced out through chattering teeth.

“Hey sis” he replied. He moved his big hand, and you flinched, forcing another groan out of your aching chest.

“I’m going to put an ice pack on the back of your neck, okay? It’ll be really cold but it’ll shock you. Ready?”

At the explanation of his movement, you hesitated a second before nodding slightly once. He slowly moved his hand, which you now noticed contained an ice pack. He slid it against your sweaty neck and held it there. You whimpered at the cold, letting it send gasps through your lungs. He nodded in encouragement at the change in breathing.

“You’re doing so good now. Focus on my voice, okay? I’m going to walk you through a breathing exercise. It’ll come back to you quickly.”

You shook your head. You didn’t need to breathe, you needed to run. To leave. To hide. To be safe.

“Not s-s-safe Frank-k-ky. Need to go. Need to go need to go need to go. Hide from it!” You wanted to grab his wrist, and started panicking when you remembered you couldn’t.

“Hey hey. I’m going to pick you up, okay? Then we’re going to the corner. My metal body is strong and can handle it easily, " he said seriously. You nodded, and let him scoop you up and hold you close to his chest. He was warm, and you could hear an automatic whirring and beating in his chest. It was safer. He walked quickly over to the corner of the room, and knelt down, cradling you in his arms and lap. He curled over you slightly, letting his forehead rest on the wood behind you. You were enclosed and safe and warm.

“See? All safe. All good” his gravely voice was soothing to your racing mind.

Safe. Good.

“He’s safe?” You murmured, blinking up at him. He nodded with a grin.

“He’s perfectly healthy and safe, okay? Now breathe with me. I’m going to walk you through the square breathing. Remember that?”

You felt small and raw, but you did. You remembered it. Franky smiled at your shaky nod.

“Good. Are you ready? Breathe in with me for 1…2…3…4…and hold for 1…2…3…4… and out 1…2…3…4… and hold 1…2…3…4…” you followed his instructions numbly, trusting him completely. He repeated the commands and counting, and your hiccuping breaths eased slowly into smooth ones.

“Relax your muscles. You’re safe. You’re good,” he said quietly. You let your head rest fully on his shoulder, relieving the strain on your injuries. You focused on your toes, relaxing those first before moving up to your ankles, calves, and thighs. You ended by relaxing your abs and back, letting Franky hold your entire weight. He let you rest for a few minutes before you blinked up at him, eyes clear now without your panic.

“What was that?” You murmured into his shirt. Franky soothed a hand over your hair.

“A flashback and panic episode at the same time” he answered quietly. You would’ve shuddered at his answer if you had the energy.

“Am I going crazy?”

“No. It’s a symptom of panic episodes. I’ve been doing research on them” he said gently. You hummed. You were tired of this room.

“Can you take me out of here?”

He stood with your body cradled against him easily.

“Do you want quiet or sun?”

You couldn’t make a decision right now.

“Both” you said instead.

He carried you out of the infirmary, and beelined immediately towards Robin’s flower garden. The smell of the sea and the feel of fresh air felt good, even if you were still emotionally numb. Robin was sitting there, calmly drinking tea as her eyes roamed over the pages of a book. To you, it never looked like she read the normal way, but rather took in parts of sentences all over the page and let them float together in her mind. You nuzzled into Franky’s shoulder, breathing in the fresh air deeply. The floral scent of flowers sweetened the air. Your shaking was stopping.

“It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?” Robin greeted. You looked at her, a weak smile on your face.

“It is, especially when you haven’t had fresh air for a while” you answered.

“Mmm” She hummed in agreement. Franky sat you in a chair and took a seat in the one next to you. Sanji appeared and delivered a fresh pot of tea and extra cups before whirling away at Robin’s request for cookies. Franky poured you some tea and placed it in front of you. You sniffed the steam, breathing in a floral combination of chamomile, lavender, and mint, and a touch of cinnamon.

“Ah, it looks like he brought you a different blend than mine. Do you mind if I have a taste?” Robin asked. You shook your head.

“Go ahead.”

She poured a cup and brought it up to sniff before tasting it.

“It seems that Cook-san used the lavender, chamomile, and mint I gave him from my garden” she said appreciatively. You looked down at the tea with new appreciation.

“Shall I?” she said, an arm appearing from your armrest. You swallowed down the frustration at being helpless and nodded, leaning forward slightly. Robin’s arm picked up the teacup and brought it gently to your lips. You blew on it lightly and she tipped it the perfect amount for you to take a sip. The gentle flavors washed over your tongue, soothing your stress. It was sweetened slightly, just as an aftertaste. Sanji really was an amazing chef. You sighed, finally relaxing. Comfortable silence enveloped the three of you for a while, Franky taking a cola out of his stomach refrigerator and sipping on it. Robin seemed to have muscle memory from drinking so much tea that she hardly needed any focus to raise your cup to your lips and back down to the saucer. You reveled in the silence, because it was different from the silence of the infirmary. This silence was accompanied by the waves, footsteps, the breeze rustling the leaves of the garden and Nami’s orange trees. Voices of Nami, Chopper, and Usopp were all heard wafting back and forth, with the occasional annoyed grunt from Law. You looked back at your companions after soaking in the sun on your face for a minute.

“Where’s Law’s crew?” you questioned.

Robin answered cryptically first.

“Maybe they were swallowed by a giant electric eel and Law is waiting for them to emerge from the other end before meeting up with them again” she said without looking up from her book. You blinked at her before breaking out into peals of giggles that were hurting your ribs.

“Ow ow ow Robin stop making me laugh! It makes my ribs hurt!”

Franky snorted at Robin’s answer.

“He probably didn’t want them exposed to our ‘stupid mugiwara antics’” he imitated Law in the last bit, schooling his face into a stern scowl. You couldn’t help your giggles, and Robin laughed with you. The afternoon brought you joy and comfort, Sanji joining you briefly between his kitchen chores as he smoked. Usopp and Luffy joined before going off to fish and then coming back hours later to fetch Sanji, interrupting his dramatics towards you and Robin. It made you feel normal.

Normal.

You yawned, exhausted from being outside. You went to stand before an ache in your chest brought you back to reality. Franky saw your flinch and the clench of your jaw.

“Wanna go take a nap?” he asked. You nodded. He went to pick you up, but you shook your head.

“I want to try walking.”

Franky smiled gently.

“Just let me call Law up here. I think he mentioned something about wanting to see how walked earlier.”

Franky called Law’s name, the shouted ‘Tra-o’ making the surgeon look over his shoulder from gazing at the waves with his signature scowl. Franky pointed to you and told him you wanted to try walking. Law’s expression eased slightly, becoming more clinical than pissed off. He quickly approached your little group, his sword slung casually over his shoulder. Luffy raced over at the announcement.

You swallowed nervously at Law’s swagger towards you, looking away as your heart fluttered. His boots tapped on the wood planks until he stood in front of you, hip cocked to the side and free hand tucked in his pocket. He lowered his sword, placing it flat on the ground in the free space near the table.

“I’ll use my abilities. If you start to fall, I’ll switch you with my sword, okay?”

You nodded. Franky and Robin looked on curiously. Luffy hummed in understanding.

“Good. Now start by standing. Brace your feet apart so you have more balance” the doctor instructed. You slid your feet apart by opening your knees, and a brief picture of spreading your legs in a different scenario with the doctor flashed in your mind.

“Good.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at the praise in his deep voice, before a spear of guilt at your infatuation killed them. You breathed deeply, clearing your mind of your thoughts.

“Room.”

The blue dome enveloped you and your group. You noticed it also reached the infirmary.

“Why not just switch me to the bed if I start to fall?” you asked. Law blinked at you.

“Figured you’d want to be outside longer but I can do that instead” he offered. You nodded, yawning. Law picked up his sword, and leaned it against his shoulder again.

“Now try standing.”

You shifted your weight slowly onto your feet, managing to rise to a standing position. Law hummed.

“Walk.”

You shuffled forward a little, adjusting to your shift in weight and balance. You stopped, looking at the doctor. He nodded once. You swallowed nervously at the thought of walking again, but slowly shifted your weight to one foot as the other took a full step forward. You pushed off your other foot, letting your weight shift onto the one you had just stepped forward with. Your back foot swung forward, and landed easily. You looked up with a smile, meeting Luffy’s excited grin. Eagerly, you pushed forward, but ended up pushing forward too quickly, and you couldn’t get your other foot under you in time. Your shoulders ached horribly as the healing muscles twitched at your instinct to use your arms for balance, and the pain swept your sense of balance away.

“Shambles”

Tears pricked your eyes in frustration and pain, your jaw clenched against the current of them both. Your chest wanted to rise as your body writhed with the pain, but doing so only made your cracked ribs scream at you.

“Fuck!” you shouted instead. You were on the bed in the infirmary, alone. The door slammed open, revealing Law holding the blanket to your bed. You looked at him, tears blurring your eyes. He walked over quickly, dropping the blanket at your feet. You heard more footsteps come into the infirmary, and you grew mortified at your weakness.

“Everyone out!” He ordered. You looked at him, finally managing to gasp in some shaky breaths. You distantly heard footsteps retreat and the door close. His golden eyes looked down at you, concern raging behind his cold exterior.

“Room. Scan” He wielded his powers with ease, his sword moving through the air over your chest and shoulders. You tried to stay still, but it was impossible as the pain lanced through you. The surgeon sucked his teeth and put his sword away.

“Your wounds didn’t get worse. Let's get you some medication,” he said. He stepped to the door, and called for Chopper. The small reindeer trotted in, immediately going to his desk to mix up a strong pain medication. You whimpered, closing your eyes as your mind began to spiral.

“Oi. Look at me,” Law demanded. You opened your eyes, bringing them up to look into his golden eyes. He wiped your years off your cheek, and placed his arm at the head of your bed, leaning his weight on it as he bent over you.

“A broken body doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’ll heal, and I’m going to help you.”

You sniffled.

“I’m scared. It hurts so much” you mumbled, keeping your gaze on his.

“I know, I know. It’ll be okay soon though” he brought his forehead down to yours, bringing your focus to the point of contact. It was soothing. His other hand cradled your jaw, and he pulled back as he moved his hand on your head to stroke his thumb gently over your eyebrow repeatedly. It was oddly soothing, and you found your breath quickly returning. You closed your eyes as your body began to relax, starting to ease the pain.

“There, see? I know it’s scary, but you have everything to live for',' he murmured. Law slowly pulled back further, letting Chopper move forward with your medicine that he had dissolved in a cup of water. You scrunched your nose at the bitter smell, knowing it would taste awful. You looked at Law for a second, and he gave you a nod of encouragement. You sighed, and parted your lips so Chopper could angle the cup in your mouth. You groaned at the taste, hating the bitterness and saltiness of the medicine. It was different from what he had given you previously. You pulled back for a breath and gagged a little.

“Just one more drink!” the tiny doctor encouraged. You groaned, and unwillingly parted your lips again. The final gulp was gritty and worse than before, and you pulled away with a gag, yelping as your aching shoulder fired with renewed burning as you tried to slap a hand over your mouth to stop the gag. A straw was shoved into your mouth, Chopper informing you it was water quickly before you spat it out. You sucked it down gratefully, coming back to yourself. You noticed a warm hand on your back, between your shoulder blades, propping you up. You hadn’t even noticed you moved. Once you drained the cup, you looked to your side, realizing it was Law holding you up with a disguised look of pity on his face.

“Never give me that shit again Chopper or I’ll kick your ass” you moaned. You suddenly felt woozy. Was the world spinning? Were you floating? You blinked once, before your eyelids lowered slowly one more time.

Apparently you slept all the way through the night, waking early the next morning before the sun rose.

“Good morning!” Chopper greeted you with a smile. You smiled back at him before registering what he said.

“Morning?”

He gave you an affirmative nod.

“Yep! You slept all the way through the night. It’s about 5am now,” he informed you. You groaned. You were hungry.

“Can I get some food?”

Chopper looked at you a little sheepishly.

“N-no. See, with your surgery today, it's best if you don’t have food before the anesthesia.”

A punch of anxiety speared through your gut, and you sighed shakily.

“...right. So Law’s crew is here?”

The reindeer nodded. You took a deep breath.

“Okay. Let’s do this. I have everything to live for” you murmured. Footsteps echoed outside your door, coming closer. A quiet knock rapped three times before Law poked his head in the open door. Once he saw you were awake, he entered the room fully.

“You’re awake.”

You nodded, swallowing down your nervousness at his presence. Not only was he incredibly good looking, but he was also the one going to do your surgery. If he was here, the crew must almost be ready for you.

“I came to transport you to my ship.”

You nodded again.

“Are you ready to do… it?” you asked, a wobble in your voice. The captain nodded with his arms crossed. He seemed more professional now, like he was in the mindset of a surgeon. He knew you were referring to the surgery, not the transportation part.

“Almost. We’ve set up everything and we just need the patient to continue.”

You looked over at Chopper nervously. He gave you a smile and what could be considered a thumbs up with his tiny hoof. It made you smile.

“And you’ll be there too?” you asked the reindeer. He trotted up to your bed and pulled himself on the mattress with a little grunt.

“Of course! And Franky will be there too!” he assured you with a pat on your knee. You breathed an anxious sigh, ready for this whole thing to be over. You looked at Law.

“Luffy is going to kick your ass if you hurt or kill me” you threatened. It made you feel like at least something was in your control. The surgeon rolled his eyes.

“One, I’ve heard that from everyone on this crew, and two, you have the best experts on the Grand Line doing your surgery. You have nothing to worry about. Now let’s go,” he held out his hand in preparation for his powers.

“Room.”

“Wait! What about Franky?” you said quickly. Chopper answered for the surgeon.

“He’s already on the Polar Tang, and has been familiarizing Law’s crew with the bionic arms he made,” he said soothingly. You nodded, and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Okay I’m ready.”

“Shambles.”

You felt weightless for a second before suddenly laying on a hard, cold surface. You sucked in a breath as the cold touched the back of your neck.

“You okay?” Chopper hovered over you cautiously. You nodded with a smile.

“Fuckin hell Law, do you keep these tables in a freezer or something?” A shiver went through you as the cold seeped past your thin pajamas.

“You won’t feel the cold soon enough once you’re drugged up. Stop complaining,” He answered curtly, and you couldn’t help how he talked to you a little differently when he was in front of his crew.

“Captain!” a high pitched voice admonished. You looked over and met the eyes of a talking polar bear, fully geared up with a mask, scrubs, and rubber gloves. You smiled, recognizing him as Bepo from Law’s brief mentions of his crew. He met your eyes, concerned.

“I know the table is cold. Would you like a heated blanket?” he held up the blanket, and you nodded, shivering a little more. The bear tucked the blanket around you with the help of Chopper, who had transformed into his more human form. Two more of Law’s crew members stood at the foot of the table, with Franky’s smiling figure hulking above them.

“Hey big bro” you greeted the cyborg. He grinned back.

“Yo! Are ya ready to have my suuuuuperrrrrr Franky arms? We’ll be kinda matching!”

His enthusiasm calmed you enough to make you giggle. Determination lit in your soul with his support.

“I’m ready,” you answered. You relaxed down on the hard table, controlling your breath and turning your head so the doctors had access to your jugular vein for the IV. A gloved hand gently wiped down the area before Franky placed a hand on your cheek, reminding you of his presence and affection.

“Okay. Get ready for the poke” Chopper said. You nodded stiffly, feeling your body tense in preparation for the needle. Franky put a finger on your chin, and tilted your head to the opposite side, and you opened your eyes in confusion. Your body began to relax seeing his grinning face, and you felt the brief sting of the needle before it was taped into place.

“I’ll give the medicine now. It’ll make you woozy and sleepy, but remember you're safe, okay?” Chopper’s voice came from the other side of the bed, and you looked over at him with a nervous smile. Law was standing behind him, his golden eyes meeting yours as a small smile twitched on his lips.

“Remember what I said about Luffy,” I reminded him. Law scoffed.

“As if I would ever harm a patient.”

You nodded at Chopper, and he began pressing the plunger on the syringe. You tasted an odd, metallic taste in your mouth and you smacked your lips, looking at the doctor curiously.

“Some people can taste it” Law answered for Chopper. As soon as he said it, you felt a wave of dizzy exhaustion crash over your body, and you grunted a little, blinking hard and trying to focus your eyes.

“Relax, we got ya” Franky’s gravely voice was the last thing you heard before you let sleep overtake you again.

To those who asked to be tagged: @blue-rae18, @perilous-pasta

#one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece fluff #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece #robin one piece #one piece sanji #sanji fluff #straw hat luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #strawhats #straw hat pirates #heart pirates #trafalgar law fluff #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #one piece law

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zeewritez · 3 months

Text

The Sailor and The Samurai - I

Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader

Hi my lovelies! I haven't updated in so long and I'm sorry but college has been kicking my ass. (Why tf am I studying biochemistry - because I hate myself). Anyways, I hope to update my other stories soon (I've had chapters for months now, they just need to be edited lol). So for now, here's a little BES fic because I'm in love with this show :)

(Notes: Reader's father is Irish in the fic but she will not be described physically except for having super long curly hair because I like projecting my hair goals onto stories, also I will be using he/him pronouns for Mizu since they are currently being perceived as a man.)

Part 2 now out

Y/n woke up with a splitting headache from the rum she had the previous night. She made a note to self to not attempt to out drink her father, even if he was pushing 60. Rolling out of her cot, she slipped on a blouse and trousers she had acquired from a crew mate at some point. They barely fit, but it was far better than the dresses and corsets she wore whenever they docked back home.

She walked onto the deck just in time to watch over the vast ocean as they approached the isolated island of Japan. She'd been there many times in her career but had only ever been to the ports to assist with loading goods when the crew needed it. Today, there was no need. Instead, she watched with mild curiosity from the crow's nest as crates were loaded onto The Banshee.

The cargo seemed standard: silks, swords, exotic fish. The things nobles in England dreweld over. Yet the passengers were anything but standard. Y/n could barely believe her eyes when the infamous Abijah Fowler was brought on board with guards on each side of him. He was brought to the detention cell, which would have otherwise been used when her father was tired of a crewmate's drunken antics.

Y/n was so taken aback by Fowler's presence she nearly missed the passenger behind him: a young man, a few years older than y/n herself, clad in Japanese garb and yellow glasses. It seemed odd to her, as it was rather overcast outside but she didn't give it a second thought. What she was truly curious about was why Abijah Fowler was on their vessel.

As the ship took sail, she climbed down from the nest and made her way to the detention cell with a curious, if not mischievous, grin.

"I never thought you'd be joining us for London," she teased as she stood outside of his cel, as though dangling her freedom like a carrot. She did not like Fowler one bit, but she found him almost as amusing as she found him vile. Entertainment was hard to come by at sea, so who could really blame her?

"Well I for one am always happy to see you," he said, grabbing her hand through the bars and kissing her knuckles. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand back from him.

"What brings you back to the isle?" she asked. "My father doesn't even enjoy England, and he's still in good standing, legally speaking."

"Perhaps he's a better Irishman then me," Fowler said with a shrug. "What does it matter to you?"

The girl looked up in faux innocence. "Oh, I'm just curious."

"Well, why don't you hunt down the samurai that's on board and he can let you know why I'm going back to London," Fowler finally told her. "You've picked up quite a bit of Japanese, haven't ya?"

"Alright, I'll see you around then," she said as she turned to leave.

"You have your mother's rear!" He shouted out, as though y/n had forgotten why she had disliked the man so much. She said a silent prayer thanking the heavens he wasn't roaming freely as she roamed the ship looking for the mysterious man with glasses, which was simple enough.

He stood on the poop deck, staring out onto the ocean, as anyone who has ever treaded water has. The waters had a way of commanding one's attention.

"Hello good sir," the young woman greeted she climbed the stairs, stopping to curtsey out of habit. She'd managed to have some resemblance of good manners despite being raised at sea by a captain with a drinking habit.

The young man stared at her, which was a common response from many men upon seeing her for the first time, regardless of national origin. In fact, Englishmen seemed most taken aback by her appearance. Her hair was long and unkempt, falling down her back in ringlets instead of being pinned into an updo of a proper lady. Her shirt nearly fell from her shoulders and around her neck was a long, beaded necklace that seemed to trail down between her breasts. Y/n giggled at the man's reaction, having expected nothing less.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he spoke casting his eyes away from her eyes out of embarrassment, then down to her strange necklace, then back up to her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she said, leaning against the Banshee's railing. "It is lovely to make your acquaintance, may I ask your name?"

"Mizu," he answered, finally less taken aback by the strange woman. "And you are?*

"Y/n," she said, reaching out her hand limply, again out of habit more than anything else. Mizu looked at her with pure confusion, almost fear. Y/n giggled again, this time to hide her embarrassment. "It is expected to kiss a lady's hand where we're going."

Mizu nodded and cautiously took the girl's hand, which was smaller then her own, and cool to the touch from the ocean winds. He kissed it with the gentleness most men she encountered lacked.

"You'll make a proper gentleman," y/n remarked as she retrieved her hand once again and placed it under her head. She scanned Mizu as had her. Admittedly he was rather dashing. So much so she'd forgotten what she was originally there to ask him. Fowler was the last thing on her mind. "What's with the spectacles?" she asked.

"My eyes are unnatural back home," he told her.

"Is that so?" Y/n asked rhetorically. Perhaps without thought for personal space, she leaned forward and took the yellow frames from the man's face. She was greeted with eyes that would put the sea herself to shame. "You needn't wear these anymore, your eyes are beautiful." The young sailor folded the glasses and handed them back to the blue eyed man.

A small smile graced Mizu's face at the first genuine compliment he'd heard in regard to his eyes. He looked over the beautiful yet foreign face of the woman in front of him. The journey to London was certainly something to look forward to now.

#mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #reader insert #mizu x you #netflix #bes #bes mizu #blue eye samurai fanfic

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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i'm curious about the reason ao3 users subscribe to works, previously i assumed that it was used just for WIPs but since writing for a new fandom and reading your blog i've realized its far more common to sub to complete works than i thought. though i appreciate the attention on my works, i was initially frustrated seeing subscription stats on works that were complete, esp bc i have seen readers in this specific fandom insist that writers continue works that they stated were completed. i had considered creating a poll bc i would be interested in the statistics of why readers subscribe to works on ao3, is this a fandom specific behavior or remnants of fandom elders continuing old habits? you can totally ignore this if it's redundant, im mostly just rambling and feel like i dont understand ao3 bc i've only been posting for a few years that i haven't experienced much fandom interaction until recently.

AO3 users are no different from users of any other website. We all make use of features in ways that work for us - even if those ways are different from (or counter to) their intended use.

Some users subscribe to completed works and/or oneshots because they hope authors might come back some day and add on. I once left a oneshot for something like 2 years and then came back and turned it into a 10 chapter fic because I had an idea for something longer and the oneshot was the setup I needed. It saved me writing the start.

Some authors will also add a new chapter onto a completed work to let readers know they've posted a new work in the series. Again, the subscription lets readers know a new work is there for them to go and read.

Other reasons they might do this include:

wanting to show the writer more love. They've commented, kudos'd and bookmarked already, so subscription is all they have left to say "I LOVED THIS!"

similar to this, not realizing what the subscription is so they press it because they're pressing all of the buttons to say ❤️

thinking that the subscribe button on and individual fic will act the same as the subscribe button on an author's profile page. i.e., they think if they hit the subscribe button on the work, that'll set up a subscription to the author instead of the story

finding it easier to sort through subscriptions to find their favourite works because their bookmarks are too numerous or disorganized

This is an individual thing and not a fandom thing. There might be a generational difference, but that's mostly just because the nature of online subscriptions and creator subscriptions has changed over time and the way modern social media handles it is different from how the Archive handles subscriptions. Mostly it just comes down to personal preference and quirks of habit.

Readers, feel free to share if you have another reason for subscribing to completed works. Did I miss any?

#asks and answers

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wolfjackle-creates · 4 months

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Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 1

Happy WIP Wednesday! Ghost!Robin was the clear winner of last week's poll. Check out this week's poll if you want a say in what gets posted next. For any newer followers who aren't aware, the entire dinner scene has been written. I'm still working on getting it cross posted to AO3, though. That's going to be my next focus (once I finish editing the last chapter of The Two Ghost Motel, my EctoImplosion fic).

Story Summary: Jazz and Jason have been dating for a while. Long enough that it's time to meet the families. So a dinner at Wayne Manor is set up. Danny took great pains to manage all his Ghost King responsibilities so nothing ghostly would interrupt the meal.

But he wasn't expecting to see the ghost of the dead Robin hanging off Jason's shoulders.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.4k

-----

Jason stared at the ceiling and counted his breaths. Next to him, Jazz’s breathing evened out as she slipped into sleep. Every time he let his mind wander, he saw the ghost grinning back at him. Signing with Bruce and Dick. Hugging Alfred.

Trying to take back his place in the family.

And of course everyone responded well to him! Bruce always hated the ways he’d changed since his death. And the ghost looked to be everything Jason had once been. Green shaded his vision and he grit his teeth.

A glance at Jazz, her face soft in sleep, made him let out a quiet breath and ease his way out of bed. A light in the living room proved he wasn’t the only one awake and, for a moment, rage burned hot in his chest. Why did Jazz’s brother have to come to Gotham and fuck everything up?

But he pushed that thought away. Danny hadn’t broken anything. Just revealed that Jason was even more broken than they had thought.

He stepped into the light and froze again when he saw the ghost sitting in front of Danny. The two looked over at him, silent.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grunted.

Danny huffed a laugh. “It’s a lot. Especially if you haven’t grown up around this stuff.”

Jason glanced back at the ghost and felt the pits rumble under his skin once more. They hadn’t been this active in years. Not since well before he’d met Jazz.

But there was a ghost who looked like him, was him if Danny was to believed, and he was trying to take over Jason’s spot in the family.

He let out an angry huff of air.

Only for the ghost to roll his eyes and sign for him to get over himself.

Jason was throwing a punch before he was even aware, only to almost fall on his face when his hand passed right through the figure. Who decided to point and laugh at him.

Jason scowled and made his way to the window. “I’m going out. I’ll be back eventually.”

“That… might not be a good idea.”

He paused, one foot on the window frame, and asked, “Why the fuck not?”

“It’s just… Robin’s tied to you. He can’t be too far from you and with the power I gave him, I don’t think he can turn invisible again yet.”

Jason growled and pulled himself back from the window and slammed it shut. He glared at the ghost. “Why the fuck do you have to come in and ruin my life now, just when things are starting to work out?”

The ghost, of course, glared back and signed that Jason had ruined his existence first by pushing their family away. All the while, he was making angry-sounding chirps and trills that had Jason bristling even more.

Then Danny was between them, holding out his arms. It felt like something was pushing down on his anger, trying to ease the pits away. He tensed, not trusting the feeling even as he couldn’t help but give in.

“Okay,” said Danny. “Clearly there’s more strong feelings going on here than I first expected. So, um, should I start explaining what I suspect now or should we wait for Jazz to wake up?”

Jason sat on the edge of an armchair, still tense, and waved him on. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Danny nodded. “So I’m no doctor. We’ll have to go to the yetis for real answers, but I can start with the basics.”

“Yetis?” Jason couldn’t help but ask.

Danny blushed. It tinted his skin green. He’d blushed red earlier, what did the change mean? “The yetis of the Far Frozen,” said Danny. “They’re the doctors I mentioned earlier. Their leader is named Frostbite and he’s been helping me out since, like, six months or something after I died. They’re the experts in part-dead, part-living biology simply by taking care of me. I don’t even think the fruitloop knows as much as them, no matter how much he likes to pretend.”

Jason closed his eyes and took a breath. Sometimes talking to people not trained in giving reports by Batman was a test of patience. He decided to let the fruitloop comment go. It didn’t sound like it’d be relevant to what he wanted to know—at least not yet. Maybe he could find out more and get a second opinion after meeting these Yetis. “So not only will you be taking me to another dimension, you’ll be taking me to a place called the Far Frozen where I’ll be looked at by yetis.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah, basically. Jazz mentioned you liked to read. If you like, I could take you to the Ghost Writer’s lair after. He’s got a library that contains every book ever written and many that never got published. I’m not allowed in it after an incident the year I died, but he likes Jazz so I’m sure he’d let you in if you promised not to damage any of his books.”

Now Jason was staring for an entirely different reason. There was a place like that? That he could just go to?

A questioning trill made his attention snap back to the ghost and he tensed again.

“Yeah, Robin,” said Danny. “You, too, of course. Can’t bring Jason somewhere and not you, after all! Especially since you’ll both have to be present for the medical examination.”

Jason grit his teeth and forced himself to not flinch at Danny’s use of the name “Robin.” He refused to take his gaze away from Jazz’s brother and ignored the sounds the ghost was making. “When will we go?” asked Jason.

“Soon as Jazz wakes up, if you want. No reason not to. And there’s a few things I’ll have to do in the Realms anyway. I was expecting to be away a single night, not however long this”—he gestured between Jason and the ghost—“will take.”

“But they can fix me, right?” asked Jason. He needed the answer to be yes. That ghost couldn’t be allowed to ruin the fragile peace he’d established with his family or the life he wanted to start with Jazz.

To his frustration, Danny just shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, Jason. I don’t know what they’ll find when they examine you. But they’ll know more than anyone else in either this dimension or the Realms.”

“But you have suspicions.”

“I do.” Danny took a breath. “Remember the sensor? Actually, let me just pull it up now.” He rummaged through his bag and pulled it out.

Jason made an annoyed grunt at the delay, but didn’t say anything as the seconds dragged on while Danny turned it on.

After what felt like ages but was really less than a minute, Danny moved closer so Jason could see the screen.

“See, here’s me.” Danny pointed to a bright orange blob on the screen. “And that’s you, he pointed to a mostly purple blob, half as bright as Danny. But mixed through the purple were shoots of orange and blue. The three shades turned mostly orange as they extended from his body to a mostly blue shape. But orange and purple twined as inextricably through the ghost as it did through Jason. Danny pointed to the blue. “And that’s Robin. You’re mostly purple which means you’re liminal. And a brighter purple than I’ve ever seen outside of Jazz and my closest friends. Robin is mostly blue which marks him as an unknown ghost. I’ll be updating the system soon so he shows up as a friendly, known ghost. But what’s interesting is this part between you. You’re connected by ectoplasm that most closely mimics halfa ecto. And there’s currently only three known halfas in existence.”

“You think we’re a halfa, like you.”

“Either that or you have the potential to be a halfa. But, really, we’ll need to go to Frostbite to know for sure.”

“I just want him gone.” Jay would argue to a second grave that it wasn’t a whine, but he was glad none of his siblings were here. Or Jazz.

The ghost let out a series of angry trills and signed at him. Which Jason easily ignored by simply closing his eyes and cradling his face in his hands as he worked on forcing back the pits.

“I don’t think it’s going to work that way, I’m afraid,” said Danny, echoing Jason’s worst fears.

-----

Jason is having A Time™️. Will it get better?

I've finally gotten around to making a Subscription Post for this fic, so this will be the last update I do the tag list for. Especially since it's been so long since I've updated, I feel kinda bad tagging all of you! But if you still want update notifications, please check out the subscription post.

Tag List Part 1:

@addie-lover-of-stories @justwannabecat @gin2212 @amercurio @regonold @overtherose @readerzj @sjrose1216 @echoednonny @deeterzz @blu-lilac @number-one-jew @rowanaway-fromthisbs @vythika96 @tired-yet-awaken @themirrorghost @emeraldcorpral @all-mights-asscheeks @darkhinauniverse @blep-23 @phandomhyperfixationblog @larkcoe1 @thegatorsgoose @job-ross-the-second @britcision @lenacraft @bubblemixer @androgynouslordofescapism @purefrickingspite @leftmiraclechaos @lizisipancardo @starlight-sparks @miraculousandmore @gildedphoenix @sometimesthingsfallapart @letmesayfuxk @phoenixcatch7 @skulld3mort-1fan @abaowo @dhampir-princess @idkmrpianoman @sarina-elais @ballzfrog-blog @undead-essence @spookytragedyshark @flyingpansaurus @akintoabitch @marivictal @8-29pm @justreadingthefanfics @happybear135 @kisatamao @spoopyspoony @adorablechaos @sara0055 @screamingtofillthevoid

#dpxdc #anger management ship #jason todd #danny fenton #ghost!robin #jason feels like things are falling out of control #just when he finally managed to get himself settled #and happy #so he is not having a good time #what will frostbite think of his situation?

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breekento · 2 months

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THREE ROUNDS - mma!toji

Uploaded chapter 2 of Three Rounds! Wowza, thanks for the love on this so far. It’s probably my most popular fic in the span of only a couple days which is so funny that it’s Toji. I seriously just happened to get into Toji the last couple weeks and my hour commute to work has been chock full of daydreaming about my own damn fic.

For now, only planning on 3 chapters. Might make an epilogue but definitely no more than 4. Thought it was fitting to have 3 full length chapters.

I may dabble in some Toji fics after this but once this is complete I’ll be back to my Higuruma/Nanami roots!

Would also like to add I did not coin mma!toji at all, I was inspired by spideyyeet and wish I could take credit. I don’t know how started it but they were the first mma!toji I saw that really ignited my downward spiral.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #toji x y/n #toji smut #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #mma!toji #toji x you #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen toji

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ravenadottir · 5 months

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ok, i understand why fusebox is taking down the old app from a financial perspective, and with it the first three seasons, but if that's not the biggest shot in the foot idk what is.

there are so many people that start playing the stupid games this shitty ass company puts out there because of said seasons, so like... no. it's by far the most commented seasons in any discussions on reddit and it's still a winner when it comes to fics and headcanon posts on tumblr, like ????

i get that it hasn't been lucrative for them probably (?) but it's a stamp of what fusebox used to be and how it could improve... and that empty promise of remastering the seasons to bring it back?

no thanks, i know y'all are gonna kill some storylines like you have been doing for 3 years now, so don't bother. just take down the only seasons that are worth playing so we can just get the fuck out of here and concentrate our attention on the fics.

now, i tried playing seasons 4 and 5, couldn't go pass a few chapters because everything seemed so stupid e pointless. i was determined to get through season 5 (don't ask me what dumb title it has, i can't be bothered to remember) but like, i couldn't ???

it was so disengaging i would rather do a jakub route and cheat so i can get dumped by returning!islander than going back and trying again. i guess this is it for me regarding fusebox.

and since i'm on the subject, i have been feeling like that for a while, just waiting around for a season that is worth my time, and it hasn't happened yet. i'm over this shitty company and whatever they released after season 2, that's just it.

if you like what they did, and has been doing, good for you, i can exist on this corner absolutely hating everything and you can love it all, my problem is with the company not the people that find joy with the work they put out here (which apparently there's a bunch of evidence of AI and it doesn't surprise me in the slightest). well, that's it. that's all i have to say on the matter.

i've barely been here due to several personal life issues, and i fucking guarantee my personal life and the gossip i've been digging up from my family would make a far more entertaining game than whatever the fuck they're doing now.

i'm still gonna continue updating the fics though, and maybe eventually turn my inbox on again ?

but for now, i'm still going through a lot and time has been wasted on multiple problems in my personal life, maybe i'll expand on those on a different post because i do need to shout into the void about everything that has been happening.

this post is not nearly as articulated as it could be, but that's just me venting. anyway, carry on with your day.

#litg #love island the game #litg s2 #litg season 2 #litg s1 #litg season 1 #litg s3 #litg season 3 #i'll never be able to see lucas again????#BULLSHIT

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lalachat · 6 months

Text

"And there you were..."

Author's note: WITERLLY WHAT THE HECK GUYS!!! You have made my heart so full! Almost 100 notes in under 24 hours😭❤️ yall gon make me cry! I am truly and utterly grateful that y'all are liking it so far! I'm a little insecure with my writing, but it's only because i'm so new. I am open to any kind of advice you can give me or constructive criticism that will help make this fic better for you readers. With practice comes improvement!! Also, look i'm evolving with my tumbler knowledge and added dividers, a tag list, and a masterlist that i hope works! Look at me go😭🤧 ANYWHOOOO... are y'all ready for this one?? I fully planned on posting this next week but i'm too freaking excited! Eheheheh writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet! Enjoy my loves<3

Summary: You and Lucien decided to leave Rita's after discovering your mates kissing each other. With no reason to stay, Lucien offers you the comfort of his home and a glass of your favorite wine to help decompress the stress of both your mates. How could you say no?

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: usage of profanity, sexual tension growing between Lucien and y/n, some fluff bc why not, sharing a bed, potential grammar and spelling issues

Word Count: around 3,350

Chapter 2: "Scream my name..."

As you and Lucien walked out of Rita’s, neither of you had noticed two pairs of eyes lingering watching you both leave after they heard Rhys’ commotion questioning Mor into oblivion about what the hell was going on. Mor had almost smirked at the fact that all it took was for you and Lucien to leave together to make Az and Elain both glance at y’alls receding figures. If it weren't for Rhysand in her face, she well would have. Even as Rhys is trying to get her to talk, she could not wait to tell you the plan had worked! Even if it was just a glance, it was still something! Small progress is still progress, right? Oh, she wishes she could have Feyre paint their reactions to you two leaving because it was priceless. Maybe Mor would and give it to you for solstice? But for now, she has a very upset cousin to deal with.

You and Lucien stopped at a local market to grab snacks and your favorite wine for your impromptu evening at his apartment. As you walk out of the market towards his place, Lucien can’t help but to ask about Azriel.

“So... The shadowsinger is your mate huh?” Lucien asks while tucking his hands in his front pockets glancing to your face as he asked you his question.

“Yeah... When I first met Az, it was when Rhys had offered me a room to stay in for a night. Rhys and I had quite literally run into each other a moment prior. I was traveling through the night court and was so distracted by the beauty that I ended up running right into Rhysand. I had knocked his freshly bought paint that he was planning to give Feyre all over us. I felt so bad that I kept offering to pay him for the cost of the paint along with his clothes, but he kindly refused. I had no mental shields back then, so he easily saw I was a nomadic traveler that had no place to stay or wash up. He offered me a room in his home for a night and a training over mental shields as payment, and I kindly accepted. I hadn't had a nice place to stay in such a long time. But, little did I know it would not be my peace and that my mate lived in the home I was about to stay at.” you said as you walked in tandem with Lucien down the streets towards his apartment.

“Always so generous that high lord. And, I assume you know who my mate is then?”

“That he is. And yes, I do. If you don’t mind me asking, why doesn’t she want the bond?”

“The same reason your mate doesn’t see yours... She’s too busy being enamored by him to try and pursue or explore things with me.” He finds a rock on the pavement to kick along as you two walk. Lucien kicks it towards you.

“At least she knows you’re her mate.” you shrug, kick the rock back, and Lucien chuckles.

“You have a point, and Azriel would know if you would just tell him.”

“Yeah, but would it change anything between us? Probably not. It would most likely end up like you and Elain if I told him...” Lucien stops and goes silent for a moment. “No offense of course!”

“None taken. How did we even end up in this mess? You and I both having mates who do not reciprocate any kind of feelings toward us because they like each other is almost ironic.” He laughs at this situation you are both in.

“You know now that you're saying it out loud, it is quite ridiculous.” You giggle. For a moment you had completely forgotten about Azriel and Elain. Lucien once again, being so alluring that you forgotten what you had just seen at Rita’s.

Lucien glances at you and finally takes in your appearance. Your cheeks start to turn rosy at the sight of his eyes trailing over your body. Your dress still leaving little imagination for Lucien. Your body grows hot from the sudden attention.

“He’s absolutely dumb as rocks for not looking at you tonight, because you look ravishing.” and gives you a playful wink.

“Lucien you're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Y/n I kid you not, I truly mean it. You are one of the most beautiful females I have ever seen!”

“Thank you Lucien, that means so much more to me than you will ever know,” as you look into his eyes and smile at him. He stares at you, smiles and dips his head to say you're welcome before continuing.

“Almost there, it is right around this corner.”

“Perfect, because I am freezing and in dire of more alcohol. I am too sober for all this emotional shit,” you say as Lucien laughs at your comment and you both turn the corner.

“And we're here! Home sweet home!”

You walk into his apartment and your senses are engulfed by the smell of cinnamon sticks, crisp apples, cedarwood, and roasted chestnuts. It felt like home. Everything in his apartment felt so warm and welcoming. You sat down the groceries you had gotten on the center table near the living room couch, and slowly took in his décor. You were surprised everything looked so coordinated. His apartment was filled with warm colors like reds, oranges, and yellows. It reminded you of your brief stay in the autumn court. You wondered if that’s why Lucien decorated it this way. Maybe he had found a sense of belonging in those colors. While you were taking in his apartment, you hadn’t noticed him grabbing you a change of clothes to wear along with a warm woolly blanket.

“Here, these are for you to change into, and this is for you when you get cold later because I know you,” Lucien handed you the clothes and sat the blanket down on the couch. “The bathroom is through the hall on your left! Let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay, thank you!”

You started walking to the bathroom, the floor creaking beneath your feet as you opened the door. You stepped inside and quietly shut the door. You could hear Lucien in the kitchen popping the bottle of wine and pouring you both glasses, but what you forgot to realize is how you were going to take this dress off. After Mor’s last minute dress change, you had to call Nuala and Cerridwen to help you into it. You had not thought about how you were going to get it off. You slightly began to panic. “It’s okay... you can do this. It’s just a dress, can't be that hard right?” You tried to maneuver your arms into reaching the back of your dress but to no avail, Mor had to pick the most complicated thing you have ever seen. She was right though, this dress did look hot as fuck on you. You struggled a few times more before huffing and giving up. So, you had to do what you had to do...

“LUCIEN, I NEED HELP!” You could practically hear him sprinting down the hall to get to you in the bathroom. Without thinking he pushes the door wide open.

“WHAT IS IT? Are you alright?” His face scans you for any kind of injuries but finds none. The only thing he finds is you still in that damn dress that drove him crazy. “Why are you not in the clothes I gave you?”

“First of all, I could have been indecent. Didn’t your mother ever teach you to knock! Secondly, you see, as a male you would not understand this predicament, but I cannot get my dress off by myself. I need help unfortunately... I swear this is all Mor’s fault!”

Cauldron boil him... “So, you mean to tell me, you screamed my name to help you with your dress because you cannot do it yourself?”

“Yes...” you can hear Lucien sigh.

“There are much better ways to scream my name y/n and you know that but for the sake that you are quite literally stuck in that dress, I’ll help you. Turn around.” Your face turns hot at his comment, and you swat at his arm.

“LUCIEN! This is not funny!” he can't help but chuckle at your flustered state.

“Okay, okay, you being stuck in a dress is not funny. Got it! Now stop being stubborn and turn around so I can help.”

“No, wait! You have to close your eyes!”

“Y/n, how am I supposed to help you with your dress if I cannot see? Besides you act like I haven't seen you naked.” Again, your face betrays you as your cheeks turn bright red at the thought. You huff.

“Fine, okay you can keep your eyes open but no funny business Mr. Vanserra. I am watching you!” Lucien chuckles at how flustered he had made you and he is living for it.

You slowly turn your back to him and lock eyes with him through the bathroom mirror. Lucien takes the back of his knuckles and traces them delicately down the skin of your spine, almost like if you were made of glass and that you'd break at the slightest touch. His hand radiates so much warmth you must stop yourself from letting out a couple of sighs. The entire time he does this his eyes do not leave from yours through the mirror. His hand finally reaches the back of your dress, and he looks away to start undoing the claps. Thank the mother because his stare was driving you crazy. Each clasp he undoes, he makes sure to take his sweet time on. He doesn't miss the way your skin crawls with goosebumps at the slightest touch of his hands against your back. Gods, you had missed his fiery touch. It had felt like forever since he last touched you.

You slowly felt the dress getting heavier with each clasp undone. You could tell Lucien was near the end when your dress had almost slipped off your chest threatening to expose your naked breasts to him. Luckily, Lucien was too preoccupied to have noticed you trying to regather it back up for coverage. You couldn’t help but to selfishly think about turning around to look at him as your dress falls to the floor. Heat slowly began to warm your lower abdomen. You had to clench your thighs together in hope of Lucien not catching your growing scent of arousal. What would Lucien do to you if you did that? Would he pin you against the sink and truly make you scream his name? Gods you wished. Just then you caught a whiff of your scent. Damn your mind and body for betraying you! You were so worried about Lucien this whole time, when you should've been worrying about yourself. However, you decide that this is probably not the time to be thinking about such lewd things after what happened with Az.

As he was on the last clasp, Lucien couldn’t help catching your lingering scent in the air. You were going to be the death of him. He kisses the newly exposed skin of your back as his scent starts to slightly change and mix in with yours. Your head fell back as your eyes closed in anticipation. His eyes had wandered back to the mirror to see your eyes shut reeling in his touch as he peppered kisses up and down your spine. He marveled at this moment for a brief second before unclasping the last clasp of your dress. Your eyes met his as the last clasp was undone, and you let your dress pool to the floor as a test of restraint. For you or him, you didn’t know which. He held you gaze for a moment, never looking away from your eyes, before ghosting his lips on the nape of your neck.

“All done...” he whispered as he slowly turned around, shut the door, and walked away back to the kitchen. Cruel wicked male.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and tried to recompose yourself. Gods would drinking more wine be safe anymore after what just happened? You sighed and you picked your dress up off the floor and folded it as nicely as you could. You grabbed the clothes Lucien had given you to change into and started putting them on. Immediately you are swallowed by the musk of Lucien's clothes. It is almost overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that you loved the smell of the autumn court male.

You laughed at yourself in the mirror as you looked and saw his t hanging so loose on you, it was practically a dress. But let's be honest, you loved it. You slowly opened the bathroom door and made your way out with your former dress folded nicely in your hands. You sat your dress down on the table and turned towards Lucien with a smile.

“So... how do I look?” and give him a twirl. Lucien looks at you and smiles. Gods, you looked even better in his clothes than in that dress but he wasn’t about to give in that easily.

“Like a little boy.” Lucien said with a playful gleam in his eyes.

“YOU TAKE THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!” as you shake a finger at his face. He laughs.

“Fine... You look like a very cute little boy!” he says grinning from ear to ear loving the effects his teasing was having on you tonight. You instead stick out your tongue and give him that all too well known finger gesture. He is practically hurled over in laughter, but you just huff and plop yourself on his couch.

“Be useful and get this “cute little boy” more wine! I'm definitely too sober now.” He laughs again and it warms your chest. You cant help but to grin back.

“Are you sure you can drink wine? You look a little young to be drinking such adult drinks” as he grabs the wine glasses along with the bottle for refills later.

“LUCIEN, I WILL STRANGLE YOU IF I HEAR ONE MORE LITTLE BOY JOKE!”

“Okay, okay. Here’s your wine doll.” He hands you your glass with a smile, “You actually look even more beautiful now that you’re in my clothes.” As he sends you a wink before sipping some of his wine.

“Thank you...” you smile as you take a sip from your own glass.

“So, other than your mate being an enigma to you, what else has happened since I saw you last?” you both get comfy on the couch and sip on your wine.

You had failed to realize how long you and Lucien were apart. You told him about your travels through all the different courts, and he told you about his part in the war along with how he became a part of the night court. You both sat there and exchanged every story you could possibly think of, trying to catch up on every moment you missed together. Soon the stories turn into giggling. Neither of you could hold it together as one of you would say something slurred and the other could cry out in laughter. It was the wine-speaking now, but neither of you had minded. You both had forgotten what it was like to be in each other's presence. It was nice to rekindle old flames with your friend, but you had to be careful. Recatching old feelings would not be good for you with this whole Azriel situation. You looked out the corner of your eye to see Lucien trying to fight off a yawn.

“Oh, don't tell me my lil fox boy has grown tired of me?” as you slightly pinch his cheeks. He grins as he sees you also fighting off your own tiredness.

“Mmmm seems like my yawns are contagious then, because I could’ve sworn I saw you do one just now.” he raises an eyebrow at you.

“Okay, maybe I did. All this catching up and wine drinking has made me sleepy.” You decide to grab the blanket Lucien sat on the couch for you earlier this evening.

“I don’t blame you... Now if you excuse me, I am going to go change into something more comfortable, these clothes are killing me, and then we will call it a night.” he says as he sticks a finger in his collared shirt to loosen the neck and walks off still in the clothes he wore at Rita’s. You chuckle at his figure walking down the hallway to what you would assume to be his room. You don’t know how long he was in there, but you couldn’t wait any longer. Your eyes were too heavy, and you were too drunk to stop your movements down the hallway towards where Lucien disappeared. You find the door he dipped into and see it is cracked a smidge. You decide to knock, unlike Lucien earlier.

“Hey Lu? Can I come in?” No answer. “Lucien I’m really tired and I don’t know where you want me to sleep...” you slowly push the door open but put too much weight on it and tumble forward into his room. Unlike your knocking, Lucien heard you tumble and was at your side to catch you in a heartbeat. You let out a laugh. “Oh, I'm too drunk for this shit... I'm sorry, I only came here too-” you look up to see him in gray sweat pants, hair loose, and no shirt. Mother blessed this man too much! Oh fuck. Get me out of here.

“Y/n, you were saying something?” He looks down at you with mischief in his eyes knowing you couldn’t keep yours off his bare chest and gray sweatpants. Your eyes blink rapidly, and you shake your head trying to get that image out your mind but its seared its way in.

“Oh yes. I was just- um, why did I- OH! Where do you want me to sleep? I’m like minutes away from passing out on the damn floor!” Lucien laughs.

“You can sleep in here, and I can stay on the couch for tonight. Is that alright?”

“This is your bed and home Lucien. I can't let you sleep on the couch as I take your bed... it just feels wrong. I'll take the couch and you can keep your bed for tonight.” you say as you turn around to head back into the living room before you feel Lucien's hand around your waist stopping you.

“Y/n I swear to the mother, do not be stubborn and take the damn bed please. It’s too late for this, I promise you it’s okay! I insist.”

“I guess old habits never die. Always trying to get me in your bed Lu.” you smirk as you crawl in and wrap up in his silk auburn sheets. You thought his house and clothes smelled nice, but his sheets, his sheets were heavenly. You almost fell asleep then and there because it was so calming. Lucien walks over to you and kisses you on the forehead.

“Goodnight doll, I am truly sorry for your mates behavior tonight. Sleep well...” He turns around, turns out the lights, and is about to walk out the door but hesitates as he hears you say--

“Lucien wait-”

“Yes?”

“We’re both adults here, right?”

“Well one of us looks like a little boy, but yes. Why?” Lucien replied. You rolled your eyes at his playful remark from earlier.

“Adults can share a bed, and nothing has to happen.”

“Y/n are you saying you want me to sleep next to you?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” you sigh.

“Always so persuasive... scoot over.” You open the sheets and scoot over in the bed to make room for Lucien. You feel the bed dip down as he crawls in. You both lay there for a moment reeling in that you two are sharing a bed again. The only difference is now the lingering heartbreak you both feel from your mates. You turn around to face Lucien and ask-

“Can I lay on your chest?” He doesn’t verbally respond but wraps his hands around your waist and softly pulls you closer to him. You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat, and look up at his face. You tuck a couple of stray hairs that had fallen in his face and tuck them behind his ears and say, “Thank you for tonight, Lucien. Elain is so lucky to have you, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Thank you doll, neither does Azriel. Now let's get some much needed rest. Goodnight,” said Lucien.

“Goodnight Lu,” as you rest your hand on his bare chest next to your head and you feel Lucien's arms tighten around you. You can't help but to feel so at peace in his presence, and neither can he, as you both fell asleep holding each other all night.

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btsmosphere · 6 days

Text

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 2: Reign of Mercy

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: There’s a whole world here, where your curse can start to bloom…

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.1k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, past attempted murder

a/n: if anyone is wondering, 190811 jungkook is exactly who I have in my head for this fic. so, go google that and thank me later😍😂 also if you saw me change the summary, don't mind me😙 one more thing, I just wanted to clarify that while I say female reader, in this fic it's just the use of she/her pronouns. reader is shorter than Jungkook, but I don't think there's any actual anatomy description going on, in case that's a worry for you!

supercharged playlist

“You’re kidding, right?”

Namjoon made no reply to Jungkook at first, simply sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moved past the younger man and sank into the sofa. Anyone would have thought he hadn’t heard the irate question.

Eventually he deigned to give a weary reply.

“Jungkook, we can’t pick and choose what happens. And nor could she. So drop it.”

Silent, wide eyes flickered between the two from the kitchen. Jimin’s breath stilled at his lips watching his two brothers while he clutched V’s hand tightly.

Chewing over Namjoon’s response, Jungkook was like a ticking bomb. His gaze never faltered, blazing eyes fixed on his leader.

“Jungkook.”

Only now did his tense form turn, finding Yoongi sat on the sofa behind him, relaxed with one leg slung over the other. No one had seen him come in, but that was normal. He still had his hood up; probably just got back.

Aiming a level look at the youngest, Yoongi said no more.

Exhaling, Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed a little. Simultaneously, a hint of poison leaked away from the air in the room.

Jungkook turned around.

“It was Bolt, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Namjoon didn’t try to deny it.

Swallowing, Jungkook stepped back to take a seat by Yoongi. He did not relax into the sofa's comfort, however, staying perched on the edge, alert.

“It’ll be fine,” Namjoon spoke firmly, “I understand you’re not feeling great about it, but you’ll get used to it. A good night’s sleep, and you’ll forget you were ever this mad.”

Jungkook scoffed derisively. Like that was ever going to happen.

“It’s not fair on the kid,” Yoongi weighed in, “she was pretty beat up.”

“See?” Namjoon agreed, as if that was a positive thing. “Never mind how she might look, she was a victim of Bolt too.”

Eyes slipping to the floor, Jungkook stuck his tongue in his cheek.

“You know how we work.”

Namjoon’s words were final. And Jungkook could easily read within them the challenge, daring him to question their methods. Their trust. And he could never do that. Angry as he was, he knew Namjoon was right.

“How you’re feeling is valid,” a softer voice tentatively entered.

As Jimin slid into the spot beside him, shuffling as close as possible with comforting arms enfolding his form, Jungkook gave in. Slouching at last, he leaned into his brother as V found a spot opposite.

“But try to be fair,” Jimin’s gentle reminder sounded in his ear.

Jungkook stayed silent.

Cracking open, the door left a gap just big enough for Jin to talk through. The sound proofing on your safe room made it necessary.

“Good morning! Are you decent?”

He had to resist the panicked urge to enter when nothing answered him for a moment. But he needn’t have worried; you were still asleep. His greeting brought the first ray of light with it to illuminate your room, and soon had you stirring.

Eyelids inching open, you managed a groggy humming sound.

“Can I come in?”

“Huh? Yeah,” you croaked, coming to your senses.

Sitting up among a crumpled pile of blankets, you were in time to receive a glass of water from Jin as he entered. On moving, your head announced its displeasure with a nauseating wave of pain, so you were grateful for the pills he then pushed into your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

Swallowing them down with the cold water, you finally became alert enough to feel embarrassed. In front of you, Jin was professionally dressed in a shirt, smart as he had been the night before. You however, probably looked like the worst hangover in history.

“Not bad…” you muttered.

Examining your hands, there was mercifully no sign of that cursed blue so far. The burn you had sustained was also remarkably faded.

“Up to some breakfast? It would certainly help.”

Not sure how hungry you were, you agreed anyway. He probably knew best.

Stepping outside, he waited while you slipped on some clothes he had brought. They were fairly shapeless, large black things, but you couldn’t exactly complain.

Just as the sweater fell over your head, a prickling sensation burst into your wrists.

Gasping, you dropped the jumper over your eyes to look. To your surprise the blue shocks of light jumped from your fingertips and up the fibres of the garment like static. You braced for the burning feeling like last time, but it never came.

Still not free from the knot of fear which tightened every time the powers leapt out, you stared, dumbstruck at your palms.

“Y/N? Are you nearly ready?”

Blinking rapidly, you looked, startled to the door.

“Sorry! One moment!” you called.

There you stood, fully dressed, yet frozen to the spot. As much as this room felt like a cell, you were safe in the knowledge that your powers would do no damage in here. If you left its walls, you had no way of controlling it.

Fists clenching of their own accord, you didn't notice the gasping sniffles that took over you as you watched the door fearfully.

Clearly, Jin did.

“Y/N?” his voice was markedly more concerned, “I’m coming in.”

A moment’s pause, and he was coming towards you.

A firm grip on your wrists pulled you back to reality. Horrified, you stared wide-eyed at Jin’s hands, expecting at any moment for them to be fried when your powers made themselves known. But he was unafraid, keeping them there without hesitation.

“Y/N.” His steady tone had you raising your eyes to him. “I know this is strange for you. But you won’t hurt any of us, it’s perfectly fine. And besides, food makes everything better.”

Holding his smiling gaze with scepticism, you let your hands fall weakly to your sides as he released them. Wiggling your fingers, you tried to detect any sign of the electricity that now resided there.

With a sigh, you only lagged a few steps when you followed Jin's lead out of the room.

A little way down the corridor, a glorious smell of cooking wafted past. Perhaps Jin had a point.

Emerging into the kitchen, you eagerly headed towards the mouth watering scent. But on rounding the corner, your steps slowed a little. Although the space was mostly empty, providing some relief from the overwhelm of last night, the figures that occupied the place were not ones that built your confidence.

By the stove, flipping bacon in a pan, was a man you hadn’t seen before. But you only caught a glimpse of his profile under white hair, before your eyes fell on the other, seated at the island.

Slowing, you instantly recognised the face of Jungkook, who had looked so angry last time he had seen you. Tentative to get too close, you stopped entirely some steps away from the seats.

Nearer to you, the tv was on, volume low as it displayed the news to two empty sofas. But, eager for the distraction, you let your eyes linger on it to delay approaching the intimidating man in the kitchen.

Shame it didn’t provide the respite you were bargaining for. A shot of a city tower cut directly to a startling blue image, the beaming face of a man otherwise hidden by his mask. Bolt.

Your eyes widened, breath freezing in your body as the blue eyes on screen seemed to pierce through to meet your own. The same blue which had confronted you in the mirror last night.

Gulping, you forced your eyes down to the rolling red text below the images.

BOLT SPARES ATTACKER, REIGN OF MERCY PREVAILS

Something churned, low and dangerous in your gut. The letters leered, imprinting themselves on your retinas as you struggled to believe them.

“…you know, my job is to keep people safe, not to sentence them…” Bolt’s voice carried faintly from the screen, twisting harshly in your ears, “…the authorities are the real heroes, I just lend a hand where I can…”

So Bolt had done the noble thing, and left Kuyang unharmed? Except he had sentenced you. Judge, jury and executioner, all in the blink of an eye. In one throwaway flicker of light.

Taeyeon hadn’t even been so lucky.

You hadn’t even noticed the tension in your frame until the image in front of you suddenly shrunk, dropping to black.

“That’s enough of that.”

Jin threw the remote onto the sofa, giving you a meaningful glance. You avoided it, spinning back onto your original path, having totally forgotten your reason for abandoning it in the first place.

Jungkook had been shovelling food into his mouth, but looked up as Jin rounded the island.

And then he saw you.

Straightening instantly in his chair, his chopsticks hovered in mid-air as his every action halted.

Your brain failed you, leaving you staring right back. It was only after a second that you jerkily prompted yourself to smile. Might as well try to make a good impression.

His brow quirked a little, the only acknowledgment you got. Because not a second later, you were gasping as a shock ran down your arms.

Hurriedly fisting your hands in your jumper, you gritted your teeth. Already subsiding, the familiar feeling was seeping away as a chair screeched against the floor and Jungkook’s tall figure brushed roughly past you.

Turning after him with shock, you could only watch the rigid line of his shoulders as he marched away down the hall.

“Breakfast is served!”

Jin’s chipper call pulled you reluctantly back to the table. Seating yourself, you caught him looking regretfully after Jungkook.

Though the food on your plate was steaming hot and looked delicious, you frowned around at the kitchen. Hadn’t someone else just been here? And what had just happened with Jungkook?

As you began to eat, you eyed Jin’s back. Could you have done something to upset Jungkook? The way Jin had looked ready to run after him reminded you again of the fact you had suddenly intruded, albeit not of your own accord, on what seemed to be an established group.

Fixing your eyes on your plate, you focussed on getting through breakfast. It was admittedly very tasty, and you felt energy return to your body once more.

“Any better?”

Jin’s stubbornly upbeat mood was back, and now you were finally able to offer him a smile and a nod. Feeling full and a little more alive, you turned your attention to Jin who leant towards you from across the table.

“You’re still recovering from yesterday, but we need to do a little bit of work” – you frowned slightly – “it’s not like we want to put you in full training, but Joon reckons you would appreciate being able to control your powers a little.”

Though you nodded, your frown deepened.

“Training?”

“Ah.”

That was all Jin said before standing, leaving you no option but to follow him. Abandoning the kitchen, you hurried to his heels and walked, confused as ever, back down the corridor away from the main space.

However, this time, you passed by the door to your small room. There was little variation in scenery as you went further down the corridor. You found yourself near enough tripping over Jin’s heels when he stopped in front of the final door that ended the hallway. Plain and dark like the others, it was like a black hole, pulling you towards it.

Looking up at Jin, you tore your eyes away from his hand where it rested, hovering on the handle. His mouth had drawn itself into a flatter line, smile erased in favour of a serious stare.

“The others are probably in there already, so… just stay near.”

And then he flashed a smile, as if he had been inviting you in for tea.

With no more time to worry about what on earth he meant by that, you were greeted with the door opening and an instant cacophony of sound from beyond it.

Eyes widening, you forced newly tense muscles forwards. Jin’s reminder to ‘stay near’ pressed close on your mind as he disappeared into the dim space beyond.

A thin staircase curved and led you downwards. When the door shut, it cut off no light. In here, flashes bounced off dark walls, air cracking as it was tossed around.

Coming to the base of the stairs, you looked over a long room. It resembled a gym, a couple of benches and punching bags pushed against the outside walls and large square mats on the floor. Sure enough, as Jin had said, some of the boys you had met the previous day were dotted along it.

As you stopped beside Jin, who waited by the steps, another spark, like lightning, burst across the far end of the space. Gold sliced through the air in a thick, powerful beam, veins darting into the air.

Just as quickly, it was gone.

“Jungkook has the most similar powers to you,” Jin’s voice, low in your ear, “which is why we would have him teach you, but… I don’t think that’s best, right now.”

He moved into the space without elaborating. Though your feet carried you with him, you were occupied by squinting across at Jungkook. He hadn’t noticed you yet. He was facing away, and now he rolled his shoulders out, shaking hair from his face, and raised his arms again.

In the blink of an eye, vibrant gold shot from his palms, towards a sort of metal disk on the wall opposite him.

“Look out!”

Your gaze at Jungkook was severed as a tug came on your arm.

In your distraction, your feet had stilled, and now you stumbled towards Jin and out of the path of a medicine ball which slammed into the wall with a dull thud. Gulping, you watched it fall heavily to the ground, not even bouncing.

“Sorry!”

Snapping your jaw shut, you found the source of the apology.

Chest heaving and pink hair plastered to his forehead, was the man that had smiled at you last night. He shot another dazzling grin now, as if he hadn’t just sent a weighted ball shooting at where your head had been.

But as your eyebrows raised, he lifted a hand and suddenly the ball floated up from its resting place on the ground. The next moment it was flying back towards him.

Flattening his hand, the ball stopped and stayed hovering a few inches above his palm.

You must have failed to hide the shock on your face. The moment he looked over to you, he burst out laughing, eyes creasing. And you couldn’t be sure – his eyes were obscured after all – but they might have glowed pink for a moment as you watched. The ball never moved, seemingly fixed in place in mid-air.

“That’s Jimin,” Jin muttered, then raised his voice, “get back to it!”

Laughter subsiding into a bold grin, Jimin snatched the medicine ball from the air and turned away.

Close behind Jin, you made more effort to stay with him this time, eager not to find yourself in the path of any more flying things.

Further along, the wall gave way to an opening. A similar room lay beyond, square this time. Peering around the corner, a familiar blond zoomed across your vision. But watching the person, you could barely believe it was the same cheery Hope who had welcomed you yesterday.

This room had more equipment, ropes descending from the middle of the ceiling, as well as bars and hoops filling the floor. And currently Hobi was way above your heads, making easy work of a rope. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when he leapt from it with zero hesitation.

A second later, he landed securely on the wall, grasping small climbing holds you hadn’t noticed. They were black just like the walls, only noticeable because he was now clutching onto them.

Pulling himself up, he launched once again into the air, kicking off the neighbouring wall into a somersault. You had barely scooped your jaw off the floor when he landed on a lower platform and dropped out of sight behind it.

“You know Hob-ah already,” Jin said conversationally. His light tone sounded more like he was showing you around an art gallery, not that you had just seen his friend performing death-defying stunts.

Rushing once more to keep up with your guide, your eyes never settled. They darted from him to the surroundings, not having time to look more at the flash of purple from across the room or the white-haired man slumping onto a bench near Jungkook.

“So this-“ you panted, “this is training?”

“Yep!”

“You… you all train with your powers?”

A nod.

You had reached the end of the gym now. A couple more doors led on; where, you could not guess. This place seemed like a maze. You didn’t even know whether you were underground or not at this point.

Sticking close to Jin, you couldn’t help but shrink back as you passed Jungkook. He was a few strides away, but as you expected, that venomous glare fixed itself back on his face the moment he saw you.

Sparks crackled by his fingertips, drawing your eyes. Was he trying to intimidate you?

Brow sinking and nostrils flaring, you fixed a stare right back at him. You hadn’t spoken to him once! What could his problem be? As you glared, a flicker of gold darted across his irises.

But then you had apparently reached your destination, as Jin opened one of the doors and you were led away, gaze warring with Jungkook until the last moment.

Once you turned back to Jin, you found him a way down the new hallway. Quickening to catch up, you frowned at the back of Jin’s head.

“What… what power do you have?” you asked tentatively.

In front of the next door, Jin stopped, making you do the same. A soft chuckle left him, his face good-humoured as he turned to you as if you had just told a joke. Shaking his head, his eyes turned back to the door you waited at.

“Me? No, I don’t have any powers.”

And then he was rapping at the door.

“One moment!” came a call from inside.

“Except maybe keeping Namjoon-ssi organised,” Jin winked at you then.

Too startled to form any kind of response, you hadn’t so much as laughed before the door was pulled open. Jin swiftly left as Namjoon smiled in greeting and stood back to let you into the room.

Swallowing, you stepped into the space. It was fairly unremarkable, grey walls with a plain desk and a couple of chairs in the middle.

You paused a few steps in, but now Namjoon strode to the desk. Following, you sat opposite him. A tension had seeped into your frame and now you eyed him warily as he made himself comfortable, a welcoming smile on his face.

“I’m sure Jin told you,” he began, “we don’t expect you to do anything with your powers just yet. But it will make things easier for you if you can control them a little. Is that okay?”

You nodded.

Taking you in for a moment, Namjoon was silent. Then he sat back and spread his arms.

“I want you to summon them.”

“What?”

Your protest was instant, but you got no further.

“If you can summon them, that level of control will help you to suppress them as well,” Namjoon explained calmly, finger raised to quell your complaints, “not to mention that by using your powers, it prevents the need for them to burst out uncontrolled as well.”

“But… I don’t know how to summon them,” you spoke quieter, hanging your head.

The scrape of his chair brought your eyes up again. An encouraging nod your way had you standing as well.

“Hold your hands out.”

Still hesitant, you did it anyway. He seemed to have no issue with the fact he would be directly in your line of fire if you actually succeeded.

“Okay. I would have liked to ask Jungkook to do this with you, since his powers are most like yours. I don’t know exactly what your powers feel like, so you’ll have to think about that yourself. Can you imagine how it felt when you used them?”

You chewed your lip as you tried to recall. It hadn’t been pleasant, you knew that. A sort of itching, tingling sensation – though at first it had been worse, like a burning.

You didn’t want to feel that again.

“Got it?” he asked.

Nodding weakly, you listened to the next instructions.

“As a starting point, try to picture the feeling. Hopefully they should respond. Really focus, and when they do, try to sustain it for a couple of seconds. You should be able to feel the core, where the power is flowing from.”

You blinked. You hadn’t really understood any of that, but you took a deep breath anyway.

Letting your eyes slide closed, you tried to remember precisely the feeling of your powers. Not that you wanted to feel the electricity claw its way down your veins, or burst from your fingertips.

Nonetheless, you willed the fire to unleash itself.

It must have sensed your reluctance, though. Nothing came.

Dropping your arms after a few more moments, you sent an apologetic glance to Namjoon. But he didn’t look disappointed in the least like you had imagined he would.

“It almost never works the first time,” he said. “Keep trying.”

Biting down on your lip, you resigned yourself and raised your hands again.

“If it helps, there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he kept talking, “you won’t hurt me, or damage anything. In fact, you can actively try to hit me if you want. Imagine I’m someone you hate!”

His dimpled grin made it hard to imagine him as an enemy you would enjoy frying with lightning. Focussing again on the non-existent feeling in your arms and hands, you tried to come up with some sort of motivation.

Your first thought was Bolt.

You had only seen him for a few minutes, but it had been enough for him to rule your life out as insignificant. The single thoughtless shock of blue could well have ended your life – nearly did.

A sharp flicker of heat made your eyes fly open. At the same moment, an exclamation from Namjoon.

For a split second, blue had bloomed in your palms, but it had slipped away before you could grasp it.

“That was good,” he encouraged, “a bit longer next time.”

Breathing heavily, you shut your eyes again, the sensation more present in your mind now. Your anger at Bolt had helped, but the memory was so fleeting it couldn’t sustain the feeling.

Taking a steadying breath, you straightened your arms in front of you. You wanted to do this. Strangely, the next face that cropped up was that of Jungkook. Glaring whenever he saw you, he seemed to resent your presence.

Maybe he didn’t want you there? Didn’t think you belonged?

You would show him. You wanted to do this. If you could control your powers, he would have no reason to look down on you.

Gritting your teeth, you looked the inevitable pain right in the face, challenging it to come out.

Like a floodgate opening, you felt a heat expand in your chest, energy flowing down your arms. When your eyes opened, they were met with a beam of light as it exploded out from your hands.

Without noticing it, your jaw had dropped. The bright blue light you had so quickly come to despise spilled confidently from open palms. Very quickly, the discomfort of electricity in your veins faded, nothing a but a slight warmth to indicate your power.

Around you, you vaguely noticed a deep red glow hanging in the air. Made of light, the cage-like structure stretched from the floor and was containing the lightning you were creating.

On the other side of it, Namjoon stood unharmed, your power dissipating, melting in mid-air before it could harm him.

“Stop,” he now told you, voice slightly raised.

Blinking as spots bleached themselves into your vision, you tore your eyes from the light that had hypnotised you. How did you make it stop?

“Make the feeling go away,” Namjoon said, “the opposite of what you just did. You control these powers.”

You didn’t exactly feel that was true. Arms beginning to tremble, you desperately scrambled to shut it off. It felt warm, so you tried to think of cold, creeping up your arms…

The beams of light sputtered.

Breathing in, you clenched your fists around the power. You could tell it was stemming from your chest, and tried to focus on shutting it off. It felt much like swimming upstream, counter-intuitive as you had to forcefully reign in the feeling that suddenly felt natural.

Holding your breath, you screwed your eyes shut.

Your powers pushed back, wanting to be free. But you dug your heels in, getting the odd sensation that you were backed up against a door that didn’t want to shut.

But the warmth was receding, the stream of energy down your arms thinning.

Namjoon was repeating your name. You had to stop.

All at once, like a candle blown out, the light was gone. All the heat snuffed out, the barrier in your chest blockaded.

Gasping, you fell forwards, stumbling until your arms braced against the desk. Before now you hadn’t noticed the sweat breaking out on your forehead, nor the exertion making you heave for breath.

The red cage dissolved around you, a flash of crimson dying in Namjoon’s eyes.

“Good, well done,” he was saying, a chair being thrust under you. Sinking gladly into it, you still leaned heavily on the table.

“That was good,” he repeated, a glass of water making its way into your hand, “I won’t make you do more now. But it was a start.”

Panting, you raised your eyes as you lifted the glass to your lips. The water was welcome since you felt like you had just run the length of the city. Wrangling your powers to your will was difficult, but you didn’t know what you had expected.

A sharp chime rang out.

Starting, you saw Namjoon’s gaze snap to the tabletop, where a screen had lit up. A small circle and a name popped up, but he swiped it quickly away, the screen’s light dying the next second.

But you frowned. You could have sworn that said-

“Apologies,” he spoke, standing up, “business calls. Is it alright if you rest outside? You can find your way back when you’re ready. We have no more demands to make of you for a while.”

And so you followed him to the door, being left alone soon after.

You looked each way down the plain corridor outside. Letting a breath out, you resolved to at least find a seat before collapsing with exhaustion, so you set off, feeling a little lost. So far you hadn’t really been left alone here, always being shown the way.

But it was simple enough, only a straight path to the large training room you had already seen.

It was emptier now. Someone was evidently still training as you could hear noise, but it came from out of sight in one of the adjoining spaces. Otherwise, the place was now deserted, leaving you free to sink onto the nearest bench.

Limbs feeling a little shaky, you gladly took the weight off them and slumped back against the wall.

You were unsure how long you spent staring into space, catching your breath. That had been tiring, so much effort expended for relatively little result. You supposed you should be proud that you had achieved some level of control over the powers, but you still felt no safer. If they were to surge again, you were no closer to being able to hold them off with any ease, nor to summon them.

The only thing you were sure of was that the energy from breakfast had quickly been chased away, and the prospect of ever getting up again was distinctly unappealing.

“Hey!”

The cheery call pulled you from your thoughts. At some point the sounds from the next room had ceased, outside your notice, and now Hope was walking from the training room.

Having seen you, he changed course and was heading your way. The sight of his sweat-soaked hair and reddened face reassured you for a moment – you weren’t the only one tired. But this only comforted you for a split second before you remembered the sorts of stunts he had been doing, while you had only half succeeded in your beginner attempt.

“First training session?” he asked, thousand-watt grin never fading.

“If you could call it training,” you half-heartedly chuckled.

“Ah, you’ll be great in no time!” As he drew up to you, you finally mustered the strength to stand up, joining him to a clap on the shoulder. Taking in your dejected state, he offered a sympathetic smile. “Tiring tho, hmm?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, I know what you need! Some good food will pick you right up.”

You couldn’t say you disagreed, and put all your remaining energy into getting up the stairs and to the kitchen while Hobi talked on happily.

“I’ll get us something,” he told you once you were there.

Infinitely grateful for his offer, you slid into the closest seat and resisted the urge to face-plant the table. Instead you leaned on your elbows, watching idly as he grabbed plates from the cupboards.

“Ah! Y/N! How was it?”

A new addition rushed to the kitchen, familiar pink hair approaching as Jimin took a seat beside you. You looked back into a bright smile as he sat expectant.

Laughing drily, you looked at the countertop.

“I don’t think I’m a natural.”

Tilting his head, he pouted a little at your response and lifted a hand to rub your shoulder comfortingly.

“It’s always tough to start with,” he nodded, “but the beginning is the hardest. Don’t push yourself.”

“Yeah, we can’t all be Jungkook,” Hobi laughed. He returned to the table with two plates of sandwiches, pushing one under your nose. Jimin quickly turned his attention to pout at Hope, who rolled his eyes and shoved the other plate towards the pink-haired boy before returning to prepare another for himself.

As desperate as you had been a moment ago for some food, your curiosity was piqued.

““Be Jungkook”? What do you mean?”

“Our golden youngest,” Jimin explained, taking a large bite of his meal before adding, “for more than one reason.”

“It’s seriously unfair,” Hobi spoke over his shoulder, “the kid can do anything he sets his mind to. Best pupil Joon’s ever had.”

Shutting your mouth, you sank a little in your chair. Jimin was buried in his sandwich, and Hobi in the kitchen, leaving you to pick at your own plate. But you only bit your lip. So Jungkook was some kind of prodigy?

You sighed, neglecting your food entirely. It made you feel even worse about your terrible performance and lack of skill. And here you were, thinking that you would be able to prove yourself to the man who seemed to hate you.

Only when a flickering light distracted you did you look up from your hopelessness.

The kitchen light blinked off entirely for a brief moment, returning to reveal Hobi whirling around with a shout.

“That’s my lunch! Make your own, this is already my second try!”

Frowning, you looked around trying to spot who Hope was berating. Nothing.

While you sat perplexed, the blond suddenly leapt across your vision, jumping high enough to hop from the kitchen table and towards the sofa. As he landed, another figure became abruptly visible, falling as if emerging from a patch of shadow.

Beside you, Jimin guffawed loudly as you gaped. Hobi had knocked the mysterious figure from seemingly thin air, and now deftly swept a plate of sandwiches from their hands, the whole while straddling them to keep them pinned on the sofa cushions.

“Nice try!”

A muffled ‘get off’ accompanied flailing arms, vague attempts at whacking their attacker.

Heaving himself from the couch, Hobi walked victorious to the counter and began, at last, to eat. Behind him, a white-haired young man sat up, ruffling his dishevelled hair as a hood fell from his head.

He turned around with a sheepish smile, shuffling back to the kitchen.

“Be gentle, Hob-ah,” he grumbled on his way past, though there was no malice behind it.

Hobi only laughed loudly in return, turning as the white-haired man came past and playfully hit at his shoulder.

“You’re all brats!” Hope claimed loudly, waving half a sandwich in the air. He was laughing so hard you were concerned for a moment he would fall clean off the chair.

As yet, the new man hadn’t noticed your blatant staring. Luckily, your attention was diverted before he could see your saucer-like eyes. Unluckily, it was diverted by the entrance of a certain Jungkook.

Jimin had been the first to stop laughing. Looking around, you became aware of the tall figure hanging back in the shadows on the other side of the living room.

The raucous joy that had filled the kitchen froze over very quickly as the other occupants noticed him. Cold, piercing eyes scanned over the space, but undeniably landed on you. Struck dumb, you merely stared back as his calculating gaze bored into you.

Setting his jaw, his gaze snapped away, fleeting over the rest of the room for a moment before he turned and left.

Sliding from his chair, Jimin dropped his remaining lunch back onto his plate.

“Jungkook-” he called, shoulders drooping when there was no response. With a sigh he followed after the younger man.

You watched him go, and then watched the empty doorway he had left through. When at last you turned slowly back to the kitchen, Hoseok sent you a grimace.

“Sorry it’s taking him a while to warm up,” he said, as if that was consolation. It didn’t seem as if Jungkook was trying to ‘warm up’ to you at all.

You produced no reply, but were saved the trouble as the white-haired man joined you. For the first time, he looked at you, eyes roaming over your face, still surely littered with scrapes from the previous night.

“You look better than yesterday,” he commented.

You blinked.

“I’m sorry… have we met?”

“Yoongi,” he nodded, sinking onto a chair. Then, “you should eat that.”

That had hardly explained anything, but you complied anyway, picking up your food. Once you had finally finished your sandwich, the quiet was disrupted by Namjoon entering. Nodding once at you, he headed across to the kitchen.

Seeing him again, you were reminded of the ‘business’ call that had taken him from you earlier on. Eyes lingering on his back as he busied himself grabbing a mug and plate from the cupboards, your curiosity swelled within you. You were sure you had seen who was calling him. Though your life before Bolt – and all that happened since – seemed so distant, you couldn’t help your keen interest.

On the edge of your seat, you chewed on your lip until you couldn’t hold it any more.

“How’s Kuyang?” you blurted.

The others’ eyes snapped to you. Namjoon froze.

Slowly, he turned around, faint frown lining his face. You never dropped his questioning stare.

“He’s… fine,” he spoke.

“Sorry,” Hope looked lost, “you know Kuyang?”

Before you could do more than nod, Yoongi spoke up too.

“He’s fine? How did he get away from Bolt?”

“That’s not important.” Namjoon strode across the kitchen, “but how do you know Kuyang?”

“I was his secretary.”

You had hoped your honesty might prompt Namjoon to reciprocate, but no such luck. His reason for involvement with Kuyang was promptly forgotten. Hobi gasped at your news; Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly as if something was dawning on him.

But Namjoon beat him to it.

“That explains why you were hit by Bolt,” he said.

“We thought you were just a bystander that got unlucky,” Hobi chipped in.

Just as you opened your mouth to return to your original question, Namjoon turned away from the table. Swiping his food from the counter, he marched away.

Halfway across the room, he paused with a look over his shoulder. Maybe he would give in and tell you at last?

“I suggest you rest,” he told you instead, “Jungkook is going to help you practise some more tomorrow.”

Thank you for reading!! I'm so looking forward to hearing what you thought🥰

Updates are every Sunday! Let me know if you would like to join the taglist💜💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities @parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack @oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife @kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts series #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x you #jungkook mafia #bts mafia au #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #superhero bts #supervillain bts #bts comic au #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fic #bts found family

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chantsdemarins · 3 months

Text

New Fic: Breath of the Æsir ⚔︎🏰 (Loki X Reader)

Formally (Collapsing in the Arms of Chaos) I changed the name. 😬 I know Medieval stories aren't everyone's fav but heck, I hope you like it! It has been brewing in the coffee pot that is in my head for over a year. I feel slightly self-conscious that after my first time with COVID, my brain is not the same. I hope I still have my ability to write! My last story published a few weeks ago was written while I was falling ill and I know it wasn't my best!

Thank you for reading!! If you want to comment I would be so happy and reblogs are like the most precious thing to me. All art is mine, it's a Photoshop-crazed situation.

Summary: Disenchanted with the Danes' misuse of Norse gods to sanction their brutality, Loki finds himself ostracized. Stripped of his divine powers and bearing a severe injury, he wanders into the realm of the conquered. By a twist of fate, he arrives at your manor, where you await your husband's return. However, destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Blood.

Words: 2,471

Smut rating: Not yet...but there sure will be!

Posting schedule: Every Saturday! I am going to stick to this!

Chapter 1 The Embroidery of Destiny Chapter 2 The Stranger Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

@lokis-little-fawn @lcolumbia1988 @thesoftboiledegg @anukulee @mochie85 @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @mochie85 @maple-seed @mischief2sarawr @kikster606 @thedistractedagglomeration @glitchquake@simplyholl @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @fictive-sl0th @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @muddyorbs @vickie5446 @trickster-maiden @grymrayven

Before your family settled again, you had been travelers, moving from one darkened patch of earth to the next. Soil on your boots muddied your paths, creating difficulties in finding a home. There were many things to see, some horrors, some things magical and unfounded. Shapes shifted in the forest where you camped at night. One day your father showed you where they lowered men into the bogs, decorated with bronze. These were not the ways of your people. They did not worship like that. It might have been too much for you to know where some ended up when they were no longer living, not in graves or on pyres. Something else.

By the time you reached the northern lands, your family had negotiated your belongings down to just what the pallid horses could carry. Your croft was built into the very earth you had struggled to cross, with bedrooms burrowed into the side of a hill. It was not built for so much rain. Buckets and sluices were not enough to keep out the floods.

So, when your husband came to marry you, you packed your things neatly, placed them in a pack, and left your parents’ home without drawing a breath. You walked a distance far greater than any you had as a child to his family's land, your new home. The way your family had negotiated the marriage remained a blind spot in your mind. You couldn't fathom it. From a croft to a manor.

Over time, nothing in your marriage seemed to flourish. The land, though beautiful, yielded nothing you sowed. Too sandy or too chelated, perhaps unfortunate timing. You became a wife in the loneliest ways. No spinning of yarn would produce a cloth finer than the wool you began with. Hours of practice composing embroidery resulted in nothing more than half completed sea escarpments, knots, and birds with no flight.

The elegant window that surveyed the tenants' labors only deepened your isolation. They carried on with their duties, and you retired to your quarters, curtains drawn. The chill from your childhood followed you here. The stone walls held a dampness no fire could dispel. You knew somewhere across the hills where your parents still sleeping too close to the earth. Rooms still flooded. Though your loyalty never wavered, even as your husband wandered afar, absent for days at a time, his pursuits as obscure as the horizon beyond your room filled with half-finished tasks.

In kindness or disappointment, he had ensured your education extended beyond your lowly beginnings. Through travels and courtly audiences, barons and other titled men and women recounted their lives' poetry over each glass of mead or wine. You listened for moments when they forgot their lines, most days this was more interesting than their images they wanted you to see.

Although had you not met Isolde of Easting, you would not have thought to plant the spiky yellow gorse along the manor's borders. When the proper conversation waned, you had discovered the titled people still spun tales of their lands. The places they had come or been uprooted from. In the best conversations, you gleaned knowledge of the plants, herbs, and tokens from the first peoples, their ways overshadowed by the new cultures but nonetheless seeming to flow from them to you during the quieter moments—the men away hunting, the embroidery thread running low, the teapot empty. These things were spoken of in hushed tones so the servants would not get ideas.

You spoke of the hawthorn tree, the ravens' work, the swords warriors cast into the cold estuary, found along all the lakes' shores. The Roman merchants who brought tales of Jesus and his cross. The god Woden came from the Angles, and Odin, from the North. Their wars and bloodshed filled the spaces between village homes and now the courts. If asked if you prayed to the Christian god, you couldn't say. You longed to speak of the place where they lowered men into the bogs, the place your father once showed you. Later, in the quiet of your room, you would pull out a relic from beneath the blankets in your chest, and it would look unrecognizable. It once held meaning, but that meaning didn't travel with it.

Sometimes when you were awake much too early, the nightingales still singing, you would dip your quill into the small pot of black soot. You would unroll a small piece of parchment, discarded by the cooks, and write down your dreams. Which had room in your sleep since they were so often unimpeded by the presence of your husband. You wrote in the lais of the Frankish people, counting eight sounds to the line, braiding your dreams with your words.

Had I found a small shell, not rope I would have held it to my ear The ocean's song would have come to me Instead, I was swallowed wholly

This was how things proceeded until the day they did not.

As you came to learn, in the void and closeness of life, nothing is reliable enough to expect its continuation the next day. You should allow for change to slip through the crevices of even the dampest chambers. It just had not happened in so long you almost did not recognize it when something remarkable unfolded at your manor.

On this day, as you sipped your tea, with half-finished yards of cloth draped across your lap, and the unopened book of hours on the small, worn table, your gaze was fixed on the wind billowing the emerald curtains—silk from an era long past, traded by hands unknown. Like much of the decor in the manor, these were vestiges of your husband's family's trade in finery, symbols of their stature akin to that of minor kings.

Elinor, your companion for the last 10 years, rapped on your door abruptly, breaking your contemplative gaze.

“My lady, please excuse me,” she croaked, as the door opened before you could arrange a pretext to delay her entry.

“What is it, Elinor?” you asked, not wishing to dwell on the trivialities of the manor that day. Clearing her throat, she reported urgently of a man in a bad way, injured and lying on the steps. She hastened to your window, the portal to the land beyond your manor, and pointed to the makeshift courtyard where a man lay seemingly lifeless if not for the faint moan you heard.

“Why have you not sought my husband or some other man of decisions?” you questioned with a twinge of fear edging into your refuge of solitude.

“Lady, your husband has traveled beyond into the land of the Scots, and the aldermen are not present either,” she informed you.

“A household of women only, then? How did I overlook such an event?” you pondered.

“Lady, you are often engrossed in your own pursuits within these walls. How could you have noticed your husband's departure?” Elinor reasoned, her words not easing the panic now fully upon you. The thought that your husband had left you unprotected added another layer of anguish.

“At such a time, Elinor, how shall we defend ourselves?” you barely articulated.

“I suspect he gave little thought to the matter,” Elinor replied, her head bowed even lower than her subdued voice.

“Then it falls to me to act in their absence,” you reasoned. Not wanting this conflict or the talk that may ensue you knew you must act quickly. This man perhaps knew your husband, or perhaps it was only a small political scuffle that may have resulted in his injuries. You thought of the many reasons he could have ended up at the steps of your manor of this day. None of them added up entirely.

As you navigated the long, narrow corridors, your thin morning jacket provided little relief from the chill as Elinor aided you with the heavy door. You both stood in awe of the man at your feet. Having seen men before, chiefly your husband. This man’s appearance was now shocking at close view. He was unlike your husband in all ways you could imagine.

“Holy Jesus save us,” Elinor yelled through her missing teeth.

“He will not assist with this, Elinor,” you responded, your eyes surveying the severe wound from his stomach to his chest, the dark blood pooling around his lean form.

The man’s hair was a shade darker than the darkest night. Had night possessed more depth, it would resemble the hue of his locks. His attire suggested nobility, which only intensified the chill you felt. He had clearly been bested in whatever skirmish he had come from, and with no healer at hand, it seemed likely that a burial might soon follow—until his eyes fluttered open.

A striking blue that drew your own darker gaze, hinting at his foreign language or origins. His hand reached out feebly before falling back to his side.

He whispered faintly, “Ásjá.”

“He's alive!” you declared, as if the statement itself could reverse his fate.

“Yes, lady, he lives, I told you. Now what shall we do?” Elinor asked, concern evident in her voice.

“We save him. It is the right thing to do,” you answered.

“But without a healer, we risk much by sheltering him,” Elinor’s voice trembled.

“Then we shall tend to his needs ourselves,” you declared, your courage unusual, unfounded, drawn from the same well that had seen men saved from death at a distance. An instinct came over you. You directed Elinor to gather wood, cloth, herbs, and other necessities that seemed more from your imagination than any practical experience. You quickly cut away his clothes, exposing the dire wound more fully.

“Lady, he may not survive this,” Elinor observed with a somber tone. The unhinged flesh flapping against the seemingly unended torrent of blood emerging from him. How could there be so much blood.

“Silence, Elinor,” you hushed her. Your hands, though failed in the art of tapestry, were adept with needle and thread. So much failure had given you courage.

“We must stem the bleeding before we can stitch him up,” you instructed, asking for a branch from the fire.

“Lady, you cannot—” Elinor began, but you had already pressed the smoldering wood to the wound. The man awoke suddenly, thrashing in pain.

“Hold him down!” you ordered. Elinor, small but determined, restrained his arms.

You envisioned repairing his injury as if it were the "Galley of the Titan’s Moons," a rare piece of embroidery from the northern lands.

“I shall map the night sky upon your body, sir,” you said, speaking into the silence as he drifted further from this world. You sensed the ancestors gather, ready to welcome him, but you were not ready to let him go.

“No, not yet” you whispered, a soft rebuke to the invisible presence.

Elinor looked at you, puzzled. To whom were you speaking?

You were determined. This man would not die. Though you had sent for a proper healer, your task was to keep him alive until they arrived, hoping they would be sober enough to be of use. Much worse would be a drunk priest should your help not find any healer available.

It was not until you had finished suturing his wound that you noticed how his body appeared in the dim light of the great room. Your loneliness resonated with the landscape of his injury. It was a peculiar reaction, but there was something else broken within this man, beyond the sword wound. It was something familiar to your own. You held you own stomach for a moment, it felt as if you were the one almost slain, not him.

Eventually, his bleeding ceased, and the healer arrived, tended to him with poultices and what looked like grain spirits. You wrapped your furs around his sleeping form. He did not pass away. The stranger in your home survived. You had been told he might still not make the night. You watched him for as long as your eyes could. His faint inhalations mirrored in your own. But the exhaustion took over, and before you could retreat to your own chamber, you found yourself lying at his side.

“How improper, Lady!” Elinor’s voice pierced the quiet as dawn crept in and your eyes, heavy with sleep, opened. You hadn’t realized you had fallen asleep beside the stranger. Startled, you rose, wrapping a blanket around yourself. Quickly finding a reason that you had slept at his side.

“He remains unconscious, Elinor. The healer was unsure if he would wake,” you confided in the servant who had been by your side for so many years. She looked briefly placated. Yet you knew her mind was racing. The healer would tell the burgh folk of this strange man. Your husband was nowhere to be known. Northman had recently been subdued with heavy piles of church silver, and that arrangement was delicate at best. They would be back and this time they would perhaps sack the village since you knew the last of the silver had been promised away to visiting bishops and clergy. The wealth had run its course.

“He must stay until he awakens, until he can speak for himself,” you quickly decided.

It was better to know who he was. He would surely tell you since you saved his life.

“But what if he is a demon, my lady? Have you considered that he may have come from Hell to bring us further misfortune?” Elinor ventured, instantly regretting her words as her face contorted with shame.

“I apologize. I did not mean to imply you are cursed,” she hastily added.

You felt pity for Elinor, she was not as traveled as you had become. Had not the stories you knew, but you also could not see beyond, you had no way to know if it was safe to keep him with you. If your husband should arrive back, there would be no way to convince him that this man had not abused you in some way, but you did know something of him. There was something you did recognize.

“This man is no curse, no demon,” you affirmed, your gaze fixed on his hair, as dark as the ink with which you wrote.

“How can you be certain?” she queried.

“He spoke in the old tongue, asking for aid. Did you not hear him, Elinor?” you questioned, your voice steady.

The woman stepped back, tossing another log onto the fire, her confusion apparent. “I did not recognize the language, nor do I understand how you did,” she admitted.

The language was familiar to you, it was the tongue of your people from so long ago. From the place of your birth. The place that was destroyed till there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 2 below!

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki x reader #mcu #norse mythology #medieval fanfic #AU loki #tom hiddleston

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stackslip · 2 months

Note

CAN YOU ELABORATE ON TLT BEING A HOMESTUCK FANFIC‽‽‽‽‽

i'm exaggerating a bit, but taz muir was a well known homestuck writer who wrote under the username urbanAnchorite. her fic the serendipity gospels is one of my fave fics ever, but was never finished and it's only by book 2 of tlt that i figured that the clear allusions to it in book 1 weren't just cute little nods but that she'd expanded on some of the ideas/concepts and worldbuilding of the serendipity gospels. to name a few:

the ninth house cult is heavily based on the juggalo church muir wrote/expanded upon in TSG, from face paint to the rituals and a lot of the accompanying prose

act 2 of TSG takes place mainly in a spaceship that serves as "cathedral" of the juggalo cult, and is described to be covered in bones that have been painted in many colors--which is close to the description of the mithraeum

act 2 also features the two main characters being much younger people mentored/manipulated into horrible acts by an old man who is thousands of years old and bickering with his other thousand year old friends/enemies, who seem to share knowledge and understanding that neither the two protagonists do but also deeply resent one another. hard to not read a parallel to john and the lyctors here!

to elaborate on this bc i just realized it: it is heavily implied in TSG that the dancestors (older people thousands of years old) went through a universe reset and built the empire in the image of their own trauma and anger, which would v much parallel what happens to john on earth and how he "reset" humanity

less of a homestuck thing and more of a taz muir thing: said old man is v much grooming the main female character and making her life miserable during the entirety of act 2

a lot of the story takes place in the background of the trolls' empire being a horrific imperialist force that the main characters were originally very excited to join and become a part of, with one of these characters in particular daydreaming about becoming ground troop for invasion while also holding a terrible secret that would have precluded him of doing so anyway. p neat parallel to gideon's own thing here

act 1 and act 2 of TSG are from two different pov characters, with a drastic shift in prose style and understanding of the situation/world when the pov shifts. which v much echoes how tlt has worked so far. part 3 was barely started before it went on hiatus, but it followed the same pattern.

speaking of, the prose of act 2 of TSG definitely feels very close to harrow the ninth's prose. you can just open the fic and check the first chapter of act 2 and how it's written, and you'll see what i mean. there are differences--the prose of TSG act 2 is more inflected with southern usamerican evangelical speak, i think? i'm not american so i can't quite 200% tell

there is an external armed resistance to the empire's violent imperialism and resistance that was supposed to be the focus in act 3 of TSG, which never happened. nona the ninth did, though, and it follows that structure.

there are also eldritch horrors that threaten the entire universe--homestuck's own horrorterrors--that are in the background of TSG and implied to be an important part of the future plot that we never saw. tlt has the ressurrection beasts

taz muir's worldbuilding around the blood castes in og homestuck that she elaborates on in TSG also somewhat parallels the way the houses function in tlt

iirc there's also worldbuilding around space travel in tlt (such as the obelisks? i think that's the name? and the use of necromancy to power them) that parallels taz muir's own take on how space travel works in the troll empire, using psionics and draining them dry in a similar way

i think the necro-cav relationship 'ideal' is based around how taz also interpreted moirallegiance in not just TSG but all her homestuck fics, down to how its legal implementation and the idealization of it vs its role in troll/houses imperialism and the reality of blurred lines in "expected" relationships. i'd love to hear taz's discourse on troll romance

i also think the necro-cav relationship parallels the other legal pairing explored in TSG--legislacerator and subjugglator.

there are probably more parallels i am missing--i need to reread TSG soon, as i haven't in a while. there are elements i'd say are more like, how taz herself elaborated on the bones of the worldbuilding of homestuck and then made it her own thing, which is rad as hell. other elements are more fun nods, such as gideon's aviator glasses being shamelessly stolen from dave homestuck, and a lot of gtn's prose feeling very homestuckey. it's def not like, just a little rewrite and boom, you get the locked tomb! imo it's more elements of plot and worldbuilding that were interesting enough to develop into something of its own and that taz made into something new, along with other elements of other stories (such as lolita and umineko) being woven into it. part of why i enjoy tlt so much is its "collage" aspect, taking elements taz thought interesting in other stories, or using these elements to purposefully evoke specific feelings/moods to construct or obsfucate certain ideas.

#eli talks #tlt #homestuck

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way.

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message.

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do?

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send.

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible.

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself.

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love.

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??!

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks.

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up.

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too.

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal fic #A! wrote a fic #rpf #pedro pascal rpf #key to your heart

194 notes · View notes

its-the-pilot · 7 months

Text

Waves | 3 | Rooster x Reader

| 1 | 2 | Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

The response to this fic so far has been amazing! Thank you so much to everyone! 😘😘😘

Summary: The first day of TOP GUN has some surprises in store for both of you. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 2.4k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Message or comment to join the taglist!

youtube

Chapter Three

The sound of your alarm blaring at 0500 didn't wake you, but it did snap you out of your reverie. You'd spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, wrestling with the idea of skipping work, not wanting to deal with the stares and whispers you were sure you'd get after the display the night before at the Hard Deck. Thoughts of disappearing like Bradley had also crossed your mind, but you pushed them away. Giving up your hard-won position at TOP GUN wasn't an option, and you refused to follow in his footsteps.

You reached for your phone as the first rays of morning sun pierced your window, figuring it was more reasonable to call now than it would have been when you got home last night like you originally wanted to. You selected the contact you had saved, pressed the phone to your ear, and fixed your gaze back on the ceiling, waiting for the voice on the other end to respond. You needed answers, and this was the only way you could think of to get them.

A voice heavy with sleep answered after two rings, his throat clearing before he spoke. "What's wrong, sweetheart? You never call this early." Another voice came from the background, leading to a brief exchange you couldn't quite make out before footsteps could be heard retreating to another room. "Everything okay?"

"You could have warned me, Uncle Ice."

The older man's voice was laced with concern for you, but having just woken up, it took him a second to put the pieces together. "Oh. Bradshaw," he groaned, and you could hear his desk chair creak as he leaned back in it. "Look, hon... it wasn't something I wanted you stressing out over."

You pressed your head into the pillow hard, feeling tears pricking at your eyes again. As upset as you were at him for withholding information, he had only been trying to protect you from spiraling. Iceman understood you well enough to know that you would tackle any challenge head-on, determined never to let anyone down.

He had been a constant in your life since your parents died due to his friendship with Maverick, most often as a voice on the phone or a guest at the occasional Christmas dinner, due to living on opposite coasts. Despite the physical separation, he had been one of few you had been able to count on to watch out for you and more importantly, tell you the truth when you needed to hear it.

There was a long beat of silence. You knew he could hear your sniffles, but mostly you didn't care. He finally spoke again when you didn't reply. "It's been a long time, maybe give him a chance. You know things weren't good between him and Mav when he left. Maybe he's grown up and moved past it."

"It wasn't just Uncle Pete's fault. Bradley didn't have to go. Or he could have taken me with him, I wanted to go with him." You confessed, hearing him sigh into the phone. Suddenly you felt self conscious, never having admitted that to anyone before. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called."

"You can always call, you know that," he promised. He had made that clear to you when you moved out to California with Maverick, often acting as a mediator during rough patches in your relationship. "Just talk to Rooster, okay? You might find out that his side of the story isn't what you thought it was for all these years."

You nodded silently, voice caught in your throat for a minute as you listened to his words. "Okay. Thanks, Uncle Ice," you finally managed, looking toward your alarm clock. 0530. "I have to go, orientation starts at 0700."

"Alright, sweetheart. I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Ice said, his voice calming your frayed nerves. "We'll talk later?"

Another nod. "We'll talk later. Bye." Your phone was tossed onto the bed after you hung up, and there was another minute or so of looking at the ceiling before you forced yourself out of bed.

“Time to pull yourself together,” you thought to yourself, taking a look in the mirror as you undressed for your shower. There were dark circles under your eyes from a lack of sleep, and your hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night. With a sigh you finally turned the water on and stepped into the stream of hot water, determined to put last night behind you and move forward like you always did.

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

Bradley sat in the back row of the classroom they gathered in for orientation that morning, determined to keep to himself. He ignored the eyes that seemed to bore into him and the hushed whispers of his name that circulated among the other pilots, hoping that it would eventually go away if he didn't give it air.

“So, ever gonna tell us who the girl is, Rooster?” Hangman asked, dropping into the seat beside him, a sly grin on his face. This prompted a few pilots in the row in front of them to turn around, their attention rapt.

He shook his head with a sigh. “None of your business.” It was a straightforward response, and it worked well enough to make a couple of the pilots lose interest, turning back around in their seats. But Hangman wasn't letting it drop.

“C’mon,” he goaded, playfully bumping him in the shoulder. “Ex-girlfriend? Baby momma? I couldn't be lucky enough for it to be a sister. I would definitely have a shot with a sister.”

Bradley's fist clenched, but he managed to hold his tongue. Fortunately, he didn't need to respond as a group of support and training staff filed into the room, lining up against the front wall for introductions. He didn't pay much attention until he saw you walk in, standing behind the TOPGUN Commander. You were dressed in a dark gray blazer and matching pencil skirt with a white blouse, your hair neatly arranged in a bun. He couldn't take his eyes off you.

The fact that you were even on North Island was a surprise in itself, but he never would have guessed that you actually worked for the Navy. It was something that had always given you anxiety when you were younger, fearing that your uncle, like your parents, might never return home.

Hangman snickered when you were introduced as the Aerospace Psychologist they all had to meet with prior to getting in the air. “Doctor Sexy. Today should be interesting,” he whispered, leaning closer to Rooster.

He barely heard him over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, and that was the only thing keeping him from punching the other pilot in the mouth. You were responsible for determining whether or not he would be allowed to continue in the program, and while you didn't think you would leverage your shared history against him like that, he wouldn't blame you if you did.

The remainder of the orientation passed in a blur for Bradley, lost in his own thoughts. When his name was called to pick up his schedule of meetings for the day, he stood and moved toward the exit. His gaze inadvertently drifted over to you, engrossed in conversation with one of the trainers and seemingly oblivious to his presence. When he reached the hallway, he finally looked down at the slip of paper handed to him and sighed. His first appointment of the day was with you, in just five minutes.

“Best to get it over with, I guess,” he mumbled, heading toward your office to wait.

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

You arrived at your office just in time for your first appointment and found Bradley sitting on the chair outside, wearing his khaki uniform. His presence caused you to falter only briefly before you took a deep breath and forced a smile. He stood as you approached, looking as though he wanted to say something, but you beat him to it.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Bradshaw,” you greeted, keeping it professional as you unlocked your door and opened it, allowing him to enter first. Once you were both inside, you closed the door and crossed the room to your desk. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He took a few steps inside and looked around the smallish office, his eyes falling on the plaques and degrees on the wall. He read each one, your accomplishments done without him and his support laid out before him. “You're a PhD, that's amazing,” he said, pride in his voice. “Congratulations.”

You had busied yourself with files and papers on your desk, getting things in order when he spoke, bringing the corner of your mouth up in a small smile. “Thanks,” you replied quietly, finally sitting down and pulling his file out of the stack that had been given to you that morning at the orientation.

Opening it up, you flipped through the pages absently, half watching him as he examined your office, unsure how you felt about him having this much access to your life. Looking back down at the file on your desk, you supposed it was only fair, since you were seeing everything he had been up to for the last fifteen years.

“You still talk to Iceman?” He asked, pointing at a picture of the two of you at your graduation for your PhD four years earlier. There was only one other picture, with your Uncle Pete at the same ceremony. He didn't mention it, but you knew he saw it by the way his body tensed, biceps flexing under his uniform shirt.

“Yeah, we still talk.” You cleared your throat and offered a tight smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. “We should get started.”

Bradley turned to face you, giving a nod. “Right, sorry,” he apologized, moving to sit in the chair in front of your desk and watch you flip through his file. “So, how does this work?”

“You've had psych evals before. It's not any different.” You finally closed the file, looking up at him. His hazel eyes were piercing, confidence oozing out of him as he looked at you the same way he used to. “Uhm…” you hesitated, his gaze leaving you a little flustered. “Everything looks good, honestly. You've never had a mishap, FITREPs are excellent, you're a model Officer. Your parents would be proud.”

He nodded, his back straightening a bit with the praise. He didn't need you to say it to know you were proud as well, and he wouldn't expect you to. He could hear it in your voice. “Thanks. I'd like to think they would be, y’know, despite everything.”

Glancing at your clock, you saw that you had a few minutes left with him before the next pilot arrived so you opened his file again and signed the form necessary, then slid it across the desk, wanting to follow Ice’s earlier advice. “Bradley… what happened?”

It caught him off guard, your question one he hadn't expected given how professional you were trying to be. “You know.”

The words were simple, but they were heavy. Yes, you knew some of what had happened between him and Maverick, that he felt he couldn't stay there any more after he had pulled his papers, but why he left you was still a mystery. “I don't though. Uncle Pete pulled your Academy application, sure, but you're here anyway. You achieved your dreams.”

“Four years late,” he said, the talk of Maverick making him tense again. “It was way harder than it would have been if he had just stayed out of my way.”

You felt for him, hearing the frustration in his voice. It took you right back to those weeks and months before he left, the shouting matches between him and Maverick that you would try to break up. From his file you learned that he had enlisted when he left, later attending UVA between deployments to get his degree so he could become an officer, and eventually an aviator.

“I would have come with you, if you had asked,” you said, forcing yourself to maintain your composure. The last thing you wanted was to cry in your office when you had a whole day’s worth of work ahead of you. “You didn't have to leave the way you did.”

He shifted to the very edge of his chair and leaned forward, reaching to cover your hand with his as it rested on your desk. When you didn't pull away and instead met his eyes, he gave you a warm, yet sad smile. “I know you would have. But you deserved more. A better life than being married to an enlisted man who was gone half the year. You had big dreams, Dimples,” he said, squeezing your hand and taking the risk of using his nickname for you despite how you had reacted to it the night before. “I wanted you to have everything in the world. I still do.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were starting to prick at your eyes. “Bradley…” you breathed, opening your mouth to say more when there was a sharp knock at your door, indicating your next appointment had arrived. Slowly you pulled your hand away and both of you stood, with you rounding the desk and closing the space between you on your way to the door.

He stopped you when you got close and his hand lifted to stroke your cheek, searching your eyes as another knock came, more impatient this time. “Can I see you again?” He asked, making the bold move with confidence since you had yet to pull away from him.

Nodding, you leaned into his touch briefly before turning back to your desk and scribbling down your phone number, passing it to him. “We still have a lot to talk about, B.”

“I know,” he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth sweetly, tucking your phone number in his pocket before heading to the door with his file. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” you said, switching back to professional mode as he passed your next appointment in the doorway. You saw him glance back at you as the door closed and you got started with the next interview.

Iceman had been right, you just needed to give him a chance to tell his side. As you flipped through the next file, you made a mental note to thank him and continued with your day, hoping you would hear from Bradley later.

Chapter Four

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