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jallerentrags · 27 days

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Better than him.

James Potter x Reader, based on 'Boyfriend' by Dove Cameron.

James Potter thought of himself as a lucky man.

He had everything he wanted: Good grades, good friends, a good life. The only thing he wanted, which he worried he might never have, was you.

Y/n Cassiopeia Black, twin sister to the elusive and handsome Regulus Black. But despite being at the same school, and being best mates with your older brother, the space between the both of you was almost impossible to cross. You were cold and indifferent - sticking with your friends and Regulus - and avoided James like the plague. You rarely spoke, supposedly scorned by his theft of your older brother, and when you did converse, it was usually under the watchful eyes of Charles Nott, your betrothed.

At the age of 16, you had been auctioned and sold to the highest bidder, wrapped in his vice like grip. James watched from the side-lines as the eyes that used to shine like her brother's name-sake, faded.

He had tried to become besotted with Lily, a beautiful and intelligent girl, but it was futile. Your power over him was strong, his urge to move on with Lily too weak. But a strong friendship between the Head Boy and Girl did blossom, so James ended up ranting to Lily about his situation.

“James I don’t know what to say. Y/n is one of the most prized girls in school and her circle is small. Your best bet to get her attention is to ask Sirius to introduce you,” Lily paused to brush her long hair out of her eyes and behind her shoulder with a thoughtful look, “Of course, that’s if she’s willing to speak to Sirius, I don’t think I’ve seen them together since last year.”

James sighed. He already knew that you had closed yourself off after losing your brother, and he grimaced thinking about how hurt you must feel. He knew that Sirius was still mourning his loss as heir to the House of Black, and heard him crying at night when his ache for his little siblings grew too heavy.

“I know,” James fiddled with his glasses, face heating up. “Maybe it’s best if I just leave it. It’s a pipe dream that a girl like that would ever go for a guy like me.” James moved to pick up his books from the library table and head to his dorm, mood low. Lily gasped and slapped his hand away.

“Definitely not! I remember Remus telling me that you two were completely smitten and oblivious to it despite belonging to rival houses. The James Potter should definitely not give up this easily,” Lily’s brows were lowered in an expression of seriousness, her lips thin, “I’ve got an idea. You know the Christmas Ball is this weekend?”

Of course James knew the Christmas Ball was this weekend. The whole school had been preparing for it since it was announced early November, a night of bliss and relaxation to temporarily ignore the deteriorating state of the outside World. James’ parents had already sent him his dress robes, and he saw that last Tuesday you had received a large parcel in the mail which he guessed must of been your dress.

“Yes, but I don’t see why that matters? She’ll be going with Charles. He proposed in August.” James spat, anger lacing into his words. Lily merely rolled her eyes and huffed.

“So? Steal her away! Ask her to dance and charm her! I’m sure it won’t be that difficult, it’s not as if she’s in love with Nott,” Lily placed her hands on the table and leaned towards him, “She’ll definitely leave him for you, she’s always been sympathetic towards muggle-born’s and I heard her talking about how she wishes she didn’t have to marry Nott. Give her a reason, Be her reason, and she’ll leave her supremacist family and be with you.” James scoffed and leaned back in his chair, watching as Lily reclined also.

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy. She loves Regulus and she fits the role as ‘Slytherin’s Princess’ perfectly. I don’t want to put myself out there for her if she’s already too far gone.”

“Believe me. She’s not. People don’t look at each other like you two do.” Lily smiled at him, certainty blazing in her emerald eyes, “You could be her new beginning, and I really think she wants that. She loves Regulus and she always will, but I know that he would value her happiness and I doubt that she wouldn’t love to have a reason to escape,” Lily’s hand reached over to James’ and clasped it, “I really believe that you two would work. I want to see you happy James, please trust me.”

James’ lips formed a smile, and he felt hope blare in his chest. If Lily, the smartest girl he knew, believed that he stood a chance, then he had faith. He squeezed her hand and stood up, collecting his books and shoving them into his bag.

“I trust you, now watch me get my girl.”

————————————————————————-

The Great Hall looked beautiful, you thought, as you entered. The ceiling showcased a clear starry sky, and the decorations shone and sparkled in the candle light. Ice sculptures decorated the corners, and 12 great circle tables surrounded a square dance floor and far off, adjacent the teachers table, was a long buffet and drinks table laden with Honeydukes delights and crisp pumpkin juice. Charles, your financeé, gripped your hand tighter and dragged you to a table with his friends, only slightly admitting how beautiful you looked in your F/c gown. Charles' friends briefly acknowledged you (with a few appreciative eyebrow raises) before ignoring your presence entirely. Across the room, you spotted your older brother and his friends, who hadn't seemed to notice your entrance just yet. Sirius looked remarkable like always, a classic example of the Black families striking looks. Even Remus looked quite handsome in his robes, and Peter had cleaned up nicely. Admittedly, you thought, James looked incredibly good in his robes and had caught your eye as soon as you entered the Great Hall. His robes were tailored to his fit physique perfectly, and his hazel eyes shone with excitement. Although he hadn't managed to tame his hair, you secretly appreciated how well it framed his face.

"Admiring the blood traitor, Y/n?" Rosier, one of Charles' close friends, scoffed. You turned back to the table, missing James' look your way, and shot a smile in Rosier's direction.

"Of course not," you replied, entangling your arm from Charles' grip, "But you have to admit that he does look very enjoyable in his robes." you smirked, watching as Charles' face contorted into a sneer. He made to grab for you, already muttering about your incompetence with an extremely angry look on his face. He wrapped his hand around your arm hard, pulling you close enough to whisper in your ear. Despite being pulled into his side, his body still angled away from you, like you didn't matter at all. From across the hall, you wondered whether it looked like it was a lover's embrace. It was anything but. You spared no love for Charles, and it was no secret. Rosier and the others all sniggered, slurs tumbling from their lips and their faces a mixture of disgust and outrage.

"Y/n, you should watch your mouth. You don't want people thinking that you agree with your mutt of a brother, do you?" Charles asked, his face settling into a blank stare. Your brows lowered and your lips curled, before quickly schooling features once more. You simply hummed, avoiding Charles' eyes. "Now run along to Regulus. I'll come to you when I need you." He unwrapped his hand from your arm and pushed you away, before turning back to his group. You wondered through Hall, greeting friends, before making a bee-line for your twin. The dancing had begun, a light tempo that sent couples soaring over the floor. You watched in admiration, the way they held each other, looking into each others eyes like no one else existed, souls mingling and stretching across the floor. You wished you could be swept along the floor, lost in the steps and the feel of your partners hands. The partner you imagined never had the Nott green eyes and cigar scented yellowed palms, he always had the face of your older brother's best friend.

From behind you, you heard somebody cough to catch your attention, and you turned on your heel to come face to face with James Potter, watching his already huge smile grow wider. His hands were in his trouser pockets, his body angled towards you so completely that you couldn't even acknowledge other's brushing up against you.

"I can't believe we're finally alone, I've been trying to catch you since you arrived, you look so beautiful," James revealed, blush drifting across his cheeks, "I almost went back up to the dorm."

"Well that would've been a shame, Potter" you smiled back, easing towards him, "I was hoping to see you on the dance floor."

James laughed, a sound that sent shudders down your spine and took his hand out of his pocket to push up his glasses that had fallen down his nose. "What are the chances? I wanted to see you on the dance floor too," James squared his shoulders and cleared his throat "Everyone's dancing, yet you aren't, somebody that I know is stuck by dance fever frequently, and he's not with you," James leaned forward and smirked, "the Universe must of divined us, little Black, it looks like we're destined to dance together tonight."

You could almost see the thoughts fly across his face as he grabbed your wrist before you could even object, pulling you towards the dance floor. The music had changed to a sweet, mouldable beat, sweeping partners across the floor in unique waltzes and dips. James positioned you on the floor, a large hand leaving a burning touch on you waist and the other slipping into you awaiting hand as you breathlessly laughed. Your hands fit together perfectly, just like his hand rested so perfectly on the curve of your waist. He started leading, smiling down at you as though you placed the stars in the sky, a twinkle in his bespectacled eyes. You followed readily, returning his smile and placing you hand on his shoulder, heat building and spreading under your dress at your close contact.

You were flying, soaring, just two people in a sea of revellers. You didn't slip from his gaze, totally unfettered, lost in him. You never stumbled, never faltered, you recalled every conversation, every lingering glance, every lasting touch, knowing you were utterly enthralled. James looked the same, captivated by your presence, stuck in your energy. You saw the words bubble in him, and your heart soared when he stopped biting his tongue.

"Y/n," he whispered, drawing you closer, his face a picture intimacy, "I could be a better boyfriend than him," you sucked in air, but didn't draw from his arms. James tightened his grip on your hip as you looked deeply into his eyes, "I could do all the shit that he never does," he flared his fingers against your waist, "I'll stay up all night for you, I won't quit. I'm thinking that I'm going to steal you from him," he dropped his head to press against your forehead, your joined hands tight as you still manoeuvred around the floor, "I could be such a gentleman, plus all my clothes would look so good on you." You slowed to a stop, dancers fluttering around you as you ended up at a loss for words, mouth agape and your heart singing. "I could be so much better for you than him."

"James..." you unlaced your joined hands, already missing his touch, as he stared at you desperately. You knew that everything he said was true, and James was nothing if not an honest man. He made you smile, kept you safe, always thought of you as the prettiest girl in the room. You were in love with James Potter, but it wasn't as easy as that. You had to worry about your brother, Regulus, and the future of your family. While your parents were definitely not kind and nurturing, they were all you had. You didn't have James Potter to whisk you away if Sirius didn't allow him too. You wanted James, more than you'd ever want Charles and his prejudice. Your eyes watered, and you suddenly felt lost.

"I don't need to tell you twice all the ways he can't suffice, he wouldn't care about your happiness, or your dancing or your smile," James' unwavering hope warmed you, cocooning you in a safety net when you felt like you were falling from the Astronomy Tower. James wanted to be your new beginning, your second chance. He wanted to cuddle you on cold nights and to show you the beauty of the muggle world and all its secrets, "If I could give you some advice baby, I'd leave with me tonight." His desperation slipped from his face, replaced with a confident smirk, as if he saw your facade melting, as if he could see you melting in his arms, as if he knew that you were going to choose him, just like you would every single time.

"You'll help me get through it?" you asked, and James immediately knew that you meant the sparking fall out between you and your parents, and the Nott family. James took your face in his hands, love shining in his eyes, before placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"I'd give you my heart if you asked, darling, of course I'll help. Besides, what's another Black sibling in my house? if your brother comes I'll have the full set." you shared a laugh, biting back the tears that threatened to spill.

"You'd like that." you said between laughs.

"I'd love it." he answered, leaning back and taking your hand in his once again. He led you back off the dance floor, both of you blushing madly and smiling merrily. Towards the left of the hall, you spotted James' friends watching you both intently, glasses raised. Lily Evans seemed particularly excited, emerald eyes aglow with excitement as she waved enthusiastically and gave James a thumbs up. Sirius and Regulus stood further away, small smiles on their faces as they watched their little sister walk out of the hall with the resident trouble maker. No complaints rose up their throats, just unbridled joy for their sister who finally looked happy. James and Y/n didn't look at anyone else as they left hand in hand, not even at a furious Charles Nott, hands balled in tight fists. They ignored the open mouthed stares and muttered remarks, completely absorbed in each other.

The next day, Charles would arrive at his dorm to an owl waiting by the open window. Tied to his leg was a envelope, and Charles reached for it immediately. Ripping it open, he tore the piece of paper out and dumped its contents on his bed. Gleaming back at his sneering face was the ring he gave Y/n when he proposed, and scribbled on the letter was one sentence:

'I suppose you were right Charles, I do have a taste for blood-traitors.’

- Y/n Black and James Potter

#james potter #james potter x reader #harry potter #hogwarts x reader #harry potter x reader #james potter imagine #regulus black twin!reader #mauraders #mauraders x reader

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josephquinnswhore · 8 months

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Devil’s Antics

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: joel explores unspoken territory.

Word Count: 1.8k

Content Warnings: established relationship, age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, honey), (reader mid 20’s Joel is in his 50’s.) somnophilia, dubcon, p in v, creampie, thigh riding, reader is asleep for most of it. Joel Miller wearing reading glasses 🥵

Note: game/og Joel is the love of my life if you don’t like him, go kick rocks. 🪨

It had been a day, Joel could concede the fact as soon as you had walked in the door. Usual infectious smile was nowhere to be seen, he felt unnerved by the way your lips were pulled into a tight line, noting how your bottom lip twitched in its struggle not to slip into a pout.

You were trying to stay strong, level-headed. Joel knew you were tough, you could handle things well, and when you couldn’t you’d always communicate the problem and together; create a solution to free you of your metaphorical chain and shackle.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” Is what he’d gotten from you, avoidant eyes and a wave of your hand, monotonous voice set him on edge. The stress radiated from your body like heat waves.

His hand slipped onto your shoulders, only adding to the extra pressure that they struggled underneath. “Let me at least run you a bath sweetheart, it’ll help you relax.”

Another disinterested reply, a shortened mumble of, “I’m fine. Just want to sleep it off.”

He felt stumped; you could be so stubborn. He was here offering solutions, ways in which he knew he could help and be of use and you outright refused. There was no negotiation, straight dismissal. He found it hard to admit that it hurt, god it hurt him. He felt rejected.

A voice of reason in his mind, told himself that he’d never seen her like this, that something so profoundly stressful must have happened for her to be like this.

As you’d said to him, once tomorrow would come and you were rested, they’d talk.

He spends a while in the living room; reading a few chapters of his book before he marks the page by folding the top corner over. A ghost of a smile grew on his lips as he heard your scornful voice in his head.

“You’re going to ruin the books Joel, use a bookmark for goodness sake!” He folded the paper anyway, maybe if you’d noticed it would give you another reason to talk to him.

His pointer and thumb reach up to take his glasses off, pinching them in the worn spot where the temple of his glasses meets the small silver hinge. He sets the book down, then places the glasses on top of them, he’s careful to make sure they’re leaning on the temples, not the lenses.

He feels a heavy feeling forming in his chest, like he’s worried you won’t want him there. Would you; want him there? The thought makes his hand hover above the door handle before he turns it, cursing the sound of the squeaky door hinges that could use some lubricating.

He was sure Tommy mentioned finding an old can of WD-40 on his last patrol.

You’re fast asleep, miraculously through the squeaky door and Joel’s heavy footsteps on the wooden floor throughout the house.

His heart swells when he looks at you; your lips are parted and there’s a frown strewn on your face, skin wrinkling around your eyes. God, you’d probably have crows feet before you turn 30.

“Oh baby, look at you.” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. You went to bed wearing one of his shirts and no pants.

He doesn’t bother to undress, not thinking he’ll get much sleep anyway. He lies there, turning his head to the right so he can watch you sleep, it disturbs him; how even in sleep whatever has you worried plagues you in your sleep.

Watching your chest rise and fall, his own breathing becomes synchronised with your own, heart beating at the same pace as he starts to grumble, his tired eyed begging to be closed for some rest. It takes mere minutes before he finds himself unable to keep his eyelids open.

He stirs, hearing soft whimpers coming from your lips, when he opens his eyes he sees that your lips are still parted, a small puddle of drool has accumulated on your yellow pillowcase.

He can’t help but chuckle at the sight. Until you whimper again, and he takes you in, he realises he’s in a predicament.

Your two thighs are wrapped around his own, locking him in place as your hips rut against his leg, the cause of those sweet sounds coming from your lips. He freezes for a moment; wondering what he should do.

He considers waking you up, shoving you off or even trying to pull his leg away to free himself of your devious grip on him. But he doesn’t. He feels a wave of sympathy.

Here was his poor baby, face strewn in a stressed-out frown and out of desperation, rutting and grinding her panty clothed cunt onto his rough, jean-clad thighs, like her life depended on it.

How could he deny you? He couldn’t.

He felt a tingle shoot down his spine, his cock hardened, stiff and uncomfortable in his jeans, as he watched you using his body in your sleep to get yourself off.

His poor angel is reduced to this, so stressed and exhausted from whatever you’re juggling has you so needy, so desperate and too anxious to ask him to actually fuck you to feel that release.

It was a no brainer to him-to help you. You were his angel, his baby. He wouldn’t let you suffer, you were too restless and you deserved to sleep without interruption. The peace of sleeping without stress on the back burner of your subconscious.

Desire washes over him, his large hands grip your hips, guiding you slowly to grind into his large thigh, still facing each other. His eyes flicker over your body, realising already, how you look less pent up than earlier. Calloused fingertips are soft on your skin as he grips your torso softly, pulling you closer into his chest.

His lips start kissing your neck, softly and gently, careful not to wake you. Small groans get stuck in the back of his throat as you continue to whine desperately for more friction.

He closes his eyes, voice husky with desire as he speaks. “It’ll be okay now honey, I’ll give you everything you need.”

Arousal fuels his actions, lips attacking your soft neck down to your collarbone, his hand sneaks under the material of his shirt on your delicate skin. He groans as he feels your nipples are hard against his thick fingers.

Your hips against Joel’s had slowed down, the rhythm becoming less synced, more sloppy, his heart pounded as he realised how close you were.

“You’re almost there princess, just let daddy take care of you. You know he looks after you.” He wasn’t trying to be quiet anymore, hell if he woke you up, he wouldn’t mind at all.

Moments later a string of quiet and frantic whines left your lips, body slumped and stilled as you cum from riding his thigh. The wet spot on his jeans is what drives him wild, a primal growl leaves his lips, and he can’t control the desire he has to take you here, as you slept.

“You wouldn’t mind”, he reasoned aloud. “You’d wanna help your daddy wouldn’t you angel?” He muttered as he pulled his jeans down to his knees, pulling his aching cock out of it’s containment.

His fingers peel your soaked panties to the side, cursing when he feels with his fingers that your cunt is dripping with slick. He couldn’t fight the devil’s temptation, the sin of lust had already possessed him and your sweet, sweet juices coated his fingertips.

He dragged his sticky fingers down his cock, pumping it a few times before lining himself up to your hole. He exhaled a few times as he pushes himself in, animalistic grunts leaving his lips at the feeling.

You stir for a moment, Joel stills and makes sure you’re asleep before he continues. He pumps himself into you, hips meeting yours in a slow motion, teasing himself, watching you be so vulnerable under him sent an arousal though his entire body.

He felt his orgasm coming on fast than it had ever before.

“That’s it angel..” He grunts, unable to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “I’m almost done princess, just let daddy use you.”

His body shakes heavily as he ruts into you, going deeper. His arms have moved so they’re now wrapped around you, and his voice is a little breathless and even more husky as he lets out small groans and moans.

But he's still holding himself together fairly well considering how close he is to falling apart. His body still tenses up, though, as he continues to fuck her while she sleeps.

Joel doesn’t feel bad, like he can’t comprehend why this would be such a terrible thing if you did wake up—he’s past the point of feeling guilty, he knows you’d want to be his good girl and help him finish.

“You're such a good girl.” He murmurs softly, his voice is slightly breathless and husky as he stares at her and kisses her softly on the lips.

He grunts softly and shifts his body even closer to her, so he’s flush against your chest. His legs are still shaking a little, and he feels a rush as he gets close to cumming and almost reaches it.

“Almost…” He trails off, his voice a mere whisper.

“Just... give me a minute... and I'm all done…” He adds softly, his voice cracking as he starts to come undone.

His grip on your hips tighten, cock now slamming into your hole harshly, crushing your body under his as he rams into you, Joel’s starting to lose his composure, not worried about waking you anymore.

He lets out an animalistic growl as he cums, long ropes of cum filling your spend cunt, trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets as his cock continues to pulsate into you.

“Fucking—Jesus baby you’re squeezing me.” He growls, feeling your cunt squeeze around him, you moan loudly and he realises that you’ve just had an orgasm.

Your eyes shoot open and it doesn’t take long to put the pieces together. Reality hits him as he realises what he’s done. Joel’s face suddenly turns to one of guilt, panic. He pulls out of you and starts breathing heavily.

“Baby—I can.. I’m sorry I wasn’t—I didn’t think.. I don’t know what came over me.” He stuttered, voice thick with emotion, his hazel eyes were soft and it was clear as day he couldn’t resist it.

You feel your face and neck warm as you take his hand in your own. “It’s okay, I like it—seriously. It’s sexy, the idea of you taking what you need and looking after me is perfectly okay with me baby.”

He starts to calm down, long arms extending to pull your body into his own, you’re both sweating and covered in cum.

“You’re so good to me angel. I dunno what I’d do without you.” He mutters tiredly, nuzzling his crooked nose into her hair.

This would need to be an in depth discussion. That could be done in the morning; for now, you were happy, Joel was happy. That’s means enough to fall asleep in each other's arms happily for a few hours.

#Joel miller #game joel miller #the last of us #joel tlou #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

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netherfeildren · 8 months

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I urge you: Bite me

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Sometimes love hurts like a split nail, and sometimes we like it like that.

Sometimes Joel hurts like a split nail, you like him like that too.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Raider era Joel; Angst; Obsessive behavior; Possessive behavior; Toxic relationships; Controlling behavior; Mean Joel; Kind of soft Joel too; Frankly, some pretty pathetic behavior; Surprisingly soft sex; Breeding kink; Creampie; Oral sex (f!receiving); Dirty talk; Fingering; Come eating; Size difference; Older man/younger woman; Buckle up we’re going old man trapping!; Joel Miller comes with his own TW

A/N: Idk what to say, she's just in a silly goofy mood, I guess!

Title is from Stigmata: Escaping Texts by Hélène Cixous

Word Count: 9.8K

Read on AO3

You’ve been watching him for close to half an hour now. The longest you’ve probably ever gone without him catching you, barking at you to get lost.

Sometimes… he’s mean.

Cold and brutish and maybe even a little cruel. Not an ounce of patience for the pesky little crush he knows you’ve been nursing for him from the first moment you’d met him. He’s never thrown it in your face, a sort of kindness, you suppose, but it’s always just there, on the periphery, the tip of his tongue, the corner of the room. Hanging over your heads like a black cloud. The reality of the fact that you’re pretty sure you’d do anything he asked of you, in any form, no matter what it was. You’d give him anything if he wanted it from you. This pervasive need to please and impress him. To be strong enough, smart enough, savvy enough to keep up with him and Tess, and yet, you’re always shut out, left behind, scolded or scorned or belittled, and still, and still you want him.

But then other times–other times he could be sweet. Or whatever weak sort of pretense of sweetness a man like him could muster up; like the fruit he brings you on occasion, sweetness. The first time he’d done it you’d cried yourself to sleep afterwards. Heart set to burst, stomach in your throat. Getting down on your knees in gratitude to a man who is just on this side of not completely hating you for a simple piece of fruit doesn’t seem like the best way to get him to respect you, to not look at you as a burden. You’d held off from doing that… just barely.

Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel Joel

You don’t think you’re obsessed with him. Or– you don’t like to call it that. But you do look up to him and you do want him and you would do anything he ever asked of you no matter what it did to you. You’d met him and Tess shortly after you’d arrived in Boston, joined their crew or whatever it was that they called themselves when they went out and did things they weren’t supposed to be doing. You know they have something between them, don’t know the specifics, the technicalities, and you don’t like to think of it. Mostly you push it from your mind and look the other way when they get too close, intimate voices and lingering touches that make your belly sour and curdle, your eyes pinch hot so that you have to call it a day and head home after that.

They live together. Or at least you think they do. They keep you at arms length enough to know that there are two apartments they keep, one that you’re pretty is for contraband and one for fucking and sleeping and eating, but you’re not entirely sure. Another thing you like to close your eyes to.

They never let you do much, don’t trust you, don’t think you competent or strong enough which is fair and fine you suppose. But you’re smart, good with numbers, sound logical head on your shoulders and they know this. Hard pressed as they are to admit it, sometimes you have good ideas, and sometimes they come to you for your opinion on logistics, distances, measurements. These are the times Joel is cruelest. He gets mean when he’s nervous, like a bad dog. And your involvement in their business makes him nervous as hell. Mostly you fetch things for them, and Tess likes to call you puppy sometimes which you know is just another way of saying you’re his little bitch. Something that, deep inside of you where it’s quiet and secret and maybe a little delusional, you think he’d not stand for if she actually said those words out loud. There is, you think, a line to his cruelty and a space he keeps you in, and that line is not to be crossed and that space not to be trespassed, and if it weren't for the way he looks at you sometimes, the fruit or the sweater he’d brought you once, it’s soft, goes with you, he’d told you, you’d not have noticed that line or that space. But it’s there, you know it’s there.

Lately though, things have been… you don’t know, tenser, perhaps. Angrier, on the edge of something, verging on a scream or a fight. Between the two of them, but also towards you. You’d worried they were getting sick of you or that they’d finally realized the little they had you do was not nearly enough to warrant including you in their takings – even though you knew they always cut you short and took the bigger piece for themselves. A few days ago, you’d been exhausted, taking shifts at the old mall for cleanup behind their backs, Joel doesn’t like it when you take FEDRA work, but the dude you rented your little room from had told you last week he’d be upping your rent to twenty rations a week, a truly obscene amount. And you didn’t want to tell Tess and Joel, you didn’t, couldn’t ask them for help, and you also didn’t want to get kicked out of your room. So you’d taken a few shifts on the down low, just as a source of cushion. They’ve been planning a big haul for several days now, and she’d come to you to double check their measurements and distance calculations. Easy work you should’ve been through with quickly, but you’d been so tired. Overworked and underfed because sometimes you’re stupid and soft and share too much with the old lady that lives in the room next door to yours, and your head had been throbbing something fierce, vision glowing bright white. You just needed sleep, and Tess had been so sick of you, angry and snappish, and you’d even thought, just for a second, that she was going to strike you when you couldn’t make sense of their notes and the plan she was disclosing to you. Which had admittedly surprised you for as shit as they usually treated you, they’d never once, either of them, laid a hand on you. And it had surprised you doubly from Tess who, despite the puppy shit, could sometimes be sort of kind to you. You know it’s pity, but you also know she’s a good person. Despite the stealing and the drug dealing, and yeah probably, or most definitely, even the murdering – she’s a good person. Or whatever semblance of a good person a world like this allows for now. So yeah, something was off. A petty and bitter and terrible part of you hopes it’s something between them. That they’re breaking up, that he’s leaving her, that he’s finally realized he wants you as much as you want him. Wishful thinking of a silly little girl.

He calls you soft. Sometimes, he probably even calls you dumb. How could he not when you follow him around the way you do? Half the moon shining in your eyes for him. You could say you don’t care, and most of the time you don’t, but like you’d said, things were different recently. Tense and angry and there was a frenetic sort of energy that buzzed around Joel whenever you came around now, an extra ounce of pity punctuated by something sharp and mean in Tess’s gaze that’s added to you having pulled back a little from them as of late, as well.

And then there had been, well… you don’t want to think of it. You turn your face away from where you’ve been watching him the past half hour, sitting on a dirty bench a ways away from where he’s been having a conversation with another man since you’ve been sat here. They look like they're arguing, or better said, the man looks like he’s trying to argue at Joel who’s scowling down at him with a look of utter disdain and disgust, thick bulging arms crossed across his chest. You cross your own legs at the knee, pressing your thighs together. You don’t want to look at him anymore. You don’t want to see him anymore. You don’t want to love him anymore because you’d never really loved anyone else before your whole life, but you’re pretty sure you love Joel. As mean or as angry or as cold as he can be, you’re pretty sure you love him. Again, like you’d said, silly girl.

And there had been that thing last week, the bursting of the old rotten fruit the three of you pose as, which you don’t like to think of, but which, if you’re being honest, has lived like the plague, like a parasite inside of your mind the past week since it’d happened. You were supposed to meet them at noon last Thursday at the apartment, but it’d seemed like it was about to start pouring so you’d headed over a little early, had put on the soft blue sweater he’d brought you days back and hadn’t wanted it to get wet. Foolish. And you’d knocked, you had, you always did for this exact reason, but when there’d been no answer you’d stupidly pushed the door open anyways, they’d told you to meet them there at noon it was only ten minutes to noon, you weren’t even that early, only to be met with the sight of Tess’s retreating form into the restroom, shutting the door behind her, and him, a curdle of bile in your throat, his naked torso, thick and strongly built, hard muscle and hair and scars, jeans open and his thick, long cock, lying heavily on his belly, still shiny with damp slick, the white of his spurted semen glistening on the skin of his abdomen and chest. There was a sheen to his collarbones and his forehead and his dark curls were a mess, like fingers had been recently run through them.

When you were ten you watched your parents get killed in a raid right in front of you. The sight of him like this by the hands of another woman was not as bad, but very close. You’d paused for a too long second, hand on the doorknob that felt cold as dry ice, burning your skin, and the two of you had just stared at each other. His gaze had been so vacant, so hard. Like he’d wanted you to see, like he was glad. You couldn’t help the tears that had filled your eyes because you knew that he knew. Knows how you feel. A muscle under his right eye had spasmed at the sight of your emotion, the frown in his brow deepening and as he’d made to stand up to tuck away the source of your horror you’d spun on your heel and ran. Down the stairs and straight across the entirety of the QZ to the opposite end, as far away as you could get from them and that apartment and the sight of his wet and used cock. You’d gone to the far wall of the QZ that spot where you knew there was a little part in the slats you liked to look out of sometimes when you were feeling restless and trapped, and you’d thrown up in the dry and overgrown grass.

It’d been a week and a day since then, and you want to hate him so badly. You want to hate him so badly. But you’re pretty sure the incident had only made you want him more.

And you want to hurt him too.

Which is surprising because you lack a severe sense of violence or hardness a life like this now warrants, but also not because it’s just been too much. Too much of being belittled, too few scraps of kindness, affection, softness, compassion, anything. And maybe you were soft or dumb or too young, too naive, too weak or any of the other things they liked to call you, puppy, but you also have a limit, even though you’d not previously known that it existed, and you’re pretty sure now that you’re coming to that limit pretty soon.

Honest or pathetic or whatever it is that it sounds like, the truth is that you just want someone to be nice to you. To pet your hair or hold you or tell you that you’re good and that it’ll all be okay. You want that very badly, and he will not give that to you, this you know with absolute certainty.

There is also the issue of your friend Adam. Adam who lives on the opposite side of your old neighbor, and who is kind and sweet and patient and who helped you get the clean up job at the mall. He likes you, you know it. Maybe he even wants you. But he’s just so– he’s not– no, you won’t think on that either right now.

Over half an hour now, and he’s not snapped at you to quit staring at him. Come over here and handed your ass to you for following him around or eavesdropping on his conversation. He hasn’t looked over at you a single time. Maybe he hasn’t noticed you, maybe a week and a day is long enough for him to have forgotten about you entirely, and your heart pinches and burns at the thought. You close your eyes to the warm sun. The weather is so unusually nice today. The sun, soft and soothing, and if you tip your head back and let the light of it shine through the thin membrane of your eyelids, you can feel that heat seep into your eyes, feel it on your bare arms propped up on the back of the bench. You’re tired today, again. That sort of bone tired that makes you dizzy and sick in your belly. Not enough food, not enough sleep, not enough anything. There’s a meagerness that lives about you all the time now, but there’s warmth right here in this spot on the bench, and Joel nearby, and even if he hasn’t noticed you, even though he’s never really noticed you, the sun is still there, and it’s still nice to watch him from afar. And yes, you’re pathetic, but you don’t really care about that so much, to be honest.

You want to hate him so badly.

“Where ya been?” He knocks the edge of his boot into the prominence of bone on the outside of your ankle and you hiss, jerking your leg back and away from him, not having heard him come up. He never says your name. Never. You’ve heard him utter the word four times in the entirety of the time the two of you have known each other, and it makes you want to bear your teeth at him or kick him in the shin, scream until his ears bleed. Does he really think you so small and insignificant that he cannot even address you by name when he speaks to you? Asshole.

“I’ve been here,” and there is too much truth to the words.

“On this bench?”

“What?” you look away from him again, swallowing. He is not a funny person, and you would like to tell him so. He’s looming over you, hands on his hips and a pissed off look on his face, and sometimes, you’ve realized that the angrier he gets the wetter it makes you, and you really don’t want to think about that right now either. You’re too tired, you don’t want to think about anything. You wonder if anyone’d notice if you just laid down right here and went to sleep forever. There are two warring sides within you, one that whispers that you could drop dead infront of him, and he’d not give a single fuck, and another that says that if something bad happened to you he’d be truly, truly displeased.

You feel newly hatched, newly made, too exhausted to deal with the enormity of all you feel for him right now.

He tries to knock your ankle again, and you whip your face back towards him “What do you want?” You spit at him, and his mouth parts, a little shocked, you’ve never been anything but meek and sweet and desperate towards him. But the shock of your temper passes quickly, and you watch him harden like stone before your very eyes. His face and demeanor going stony and angry and serious, readying to put you in your place. The sight of it chases all the fight out of you, you deflate like a sadly trampled flower and seem to melt into the surface of the bench. Let him do and say what he will, you don’t care anymore.

“I want you to fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you, first of all. And I want to know where you’ve been and why you haven’t come around?”

Voice dead: “Don’t you also want to know why I don’t knock before walking into other people’s homes?” And you don’t know where it comes from, and you kind of feel like you might vomit at his feet or start crying or a little bit of both, but you’re glad you say it anyways.

Another look of shock, and if you weren’t so beaten down bone dead tired, you’d probably smile a little. But that passes quickly again too and like a knife to a lung or a fist to the belly he says, “You did knock.”

So he knew and let you see anyways. You nod once, “You’re right, I did.”

“Is that what this is about?”

“What?”

“Stop being purposefully fuckin’ obtuse, little girl.” Little girl, fuck you.

“Obtuse. Big word, I thought you needed me for the brains.”

His frown changes, different form anger, more like confusion; “What’s wrong with you today?” You don’t know. You feel sad. Tired. Alone. Angry.

“Nothing,” you lie, looking away from him. “Did you need something from me?” You know what the answer will be.

“No.” Yeah.

A dip of your chin. “I gave Tess my notes. The plan for tonight’s good.” You slide to the far end of the bench so that you can stand without being too close to him, and he takes a single side step towards you. All at once: confused, questioning, angry look on his face. You want to smooth out the little frowning wrinkle between his eyebrows, you want to hate him, you want to take him inside of you. The sight of his wet cock flashes in your mind. If he fucked you it’d hurt, you’re sure of it. You’re also sure you’d like it if it did. Your mother had died before you’d become a woman, gotten your period, known anything about what it would be like to walk around the world with a thing between your legs that men would covet. You’d gone to live with a woman who was kind of her friend, but not really, but who in the end, had been kind enough to shelter a lonely child, told you about the world and set you up so that you’d at least survive on your own, if not thrive. She’d told you that sometimes love hurt like a split nail, and that sometimes we liked it like that. That sometimes people came out a little gnarled and looked for equally strange things in return, and that you should be wary of this but not punish yourself for it. Things were the way they were. You’d not understood at the time, had only thought her to have the saddest sort of eyes you’d ever seen in your short life, but when you looked at yourself in the mirror now as a grown woman, you saw those same sort of eyes reflected back at you, and you felt you understood what she’d meant.

He takes another small step towards you, and you look the opposite way, down the street towards your cold little room with the land lord who you’re pretty sure is eventually going to ask for a fuck instead of rations. The thought of that is somehow tragically better than the thought of his damp and used body and that cold and taunting look in his eyes, Tess’s pity and sharp voice and desire to strike you.

Adam had said he had more work for you tonight, you think you’ll sleep for a few hours and then go find him. “You’re not coming,” he says sharply, interrupting your thoughts, invading your thoughts like always.

You look back at him, the frown, the aggressive, commanding aspect of him. Of course he doesn't want you there. “No, I’m not. I have other things I need to do.” Stupid to add that on, but you can’t help yourself.

“Like what?”

“My friend Adam has been finding me work.” Stupid, stupid. Shut your damn mouth.

“What the fuck are you talking about? That’s where you’ve been running off to these past few days? I thought we had an arrangement the three of us–”

You scoff, “An arrangement? That’s what it was? I thought I was just your puppy,” and the words burn and writhe like something poisoned on your tongue. You’d never said that word aloud to him, never acknowledged what it is they see you as.

He swallows, at a loss for words, “Listen, if this is about–”

“Joel, I don’t care how you keep your dick wet. We had,” another bitter laugh, we, what a fucking joke, “The arrangement served its purpose, but I think it’s run its course, don’t you? I’ll help with plans when you guys need me, but I need more work. Teddy,” the landlord, “s’been asking for more rent rations–”

“That slimy fuck can’t do that to you–”

You ignore him, stepping back and soldiering on, “And I need more work. I’ve been helping the clean up crews–”

His eyes go wide and bugged and furious, and he takes several more steps to match your retreating ones, “You’ve been doing fucking what? And who the fuck is Adam?” he growls, hand coming up to catch you when all you want at this moment is for him to finally let you go. At the same time, the man he was speaking to before, the pseudo arguer, calls out to him from behind, coming up upon the two of you, and when Joel turns to look back at him you spin on your heel and scamper away as quick as you can. He calls out your name after you, the fifth time he’s ever said it, and it is no longer a split nail, but a split limb, a split rib, a split heart, something terrible and devastating.

You make it back to your room in time to collapse into the saddest puddle of tears that’s surely ever existed. Face down, buried in your pillows you cry for a thing you’d never even had the possibility of having, but which still hurts like a blow to the skull nonetheless. Something that you can no longer push from your mind or close your eyes to or swallow and hide away in your belly. He doesn’t love you. He never has and he never will, and there was never the possibility of it, and you have to accept that. And you must also accept that it is not some failing on your part, his inability to choose you, to love you. You know that there are parts of Joel that are broken beyond repair, sometimes people come out a little gnarled and look for equally strange things in return, and you cannot tell yourself either that it’s his loss because honestly, perhaps, it isn’t. Perhaps, it just isn't meant to be, and it is no sort of loss because it was never really anything that was ever supposed to really be. You must tell yourself these things not to hurt yourself but because you are tired of hurting. He doesn't love you, and it isn't your fault, and there's nothing you could have done about it and nothing you can do about it and things move forward anyways.

You sleep after this, lulled into unconsciousness by the pounding of your temples and the slow, cold drip of your tears across the bridge of your nose and into your ear. The wall your bed is pushed up against is a sickly yellow color, deep, old cracks and water damage marring the surface, and it’s such a sad sight it makes you even more depressed, and when you finally close your eyes to escape it, even though all you can see in your mind is the look on his face right before you walked away from him, even though it’s an infinitely painful sort of thing, it soothes you in a sick and twisted sort of way to know he’s out there in the world existing. Even if you want to hate him, even if you don’t, even if his very existence pains you, it’s still somehow comforting.

The job Adam has for you turns out to be stupider and more dangerous and bigger than you’d bargained for. His crew is trying to steal a generator from an old FEDRA warehouse that they’d heard about through their grapevine of informants. He doesn’t tell you what the generator is for, nor where it is they’re exactly stealing it from. All he tells you is that he needs you to stand at a previously decided upon spot in the woods near where their drop off location is, and keep watch. There will be another person posted a few miles away from you, and if there’s any movement there shouldn’t be you’re to come looking for the next person who’ll find the next and then the next and alert whoever it is that needs to be alerted that something’s amiss. Stand, watch, signal if necessary, and it seems simple enough, but the catch, the fact that you need to leave the QZ is what you’d not accounted for. Something you’d never done before. After several hours of restless sleep and a slightly revolting can of old chili and beans you feel partially more yourself and not so haggardly terrible. You’ve decided that the conversation with Joel never happened and that you’re going to avoid the two of them for the rest of your life and pretend like you never met them and they don’t exist and maybe you’ll even give Adam a chance to fuck you, and then perhaps, the memory of Joel will be jostled out of your head by another mans dick. Good, sound plan.

It’s raining something awful outside by the time the two of you make it to the meetup point and the place where you’re to stay and keep watch, and you don’t think about the fact that at this very moment Tess and Joel are probably also sneaking their way out of the QZ to go on their own run. You’re comforted by the fact that you know that their raid will lead them in the opposite direction of where you’ll be tonight. The spot you’re to keep isn’t so deep in the woods that the moonlight isn’t able to make its way through the trees, and the rain has abated slightly by the time you’re settled into your spot on the cold ground where you’re to wait and watch. Adam leaves with a short nod and a brush of his thumb to the high arch of your cheekbone which elicits a slightly nauseating flip of your stomach that you choose to ignore. Evasion is obviously your favorite tactic of self preservation, and you wonder when all this burying of your head in the sand will finally catch up to you.

You sit for several hours in the dark silence, and it eventually stops raining and with the cessation of the cold downpour comes your fear. The silence is so loud and the dark seems to swell and throb around you with the loss of the rhythm and movement of the rain. You’re freezing cold, and Adam had said to not move until he came back for you, but he’d not specified how long that’d be, and now that you’re stuck here, shivering and stomach cramping with hunger, fuck those beans, you’re realizing how ostensibly stupid this was of you, and you also can’t help but think that Joel would have never asked this of you, he would have never left you out here in the dark wilderness unprotected, he probably would’ve tied you up and muzzled you before he even let you out of the QZ, and to be perfectly honest, you think you’d probably like that too. Pathetic.

You sit for a short while longer before something shifts. The moon or the wind or something that doesn’t feel right; your level of fear ricochets up to a scream for a second, and then you hear the snap of a branch from what seems to be one side, and then the shift of trees from another direction. You get to your feet and make a slow circle in the place your standing, frightened eyes searching the darkness for something that shouldn’t be there, and as you’re about to call it quits and bolt, fuck Adam and his stupid plan, you’re jerked back into a rock solid, wide chest, large, rough hand clamping tight and painful over your mouth. You freeze paralyzed for a single second, heart racing within your chest like a small animal on the verge of death, but then his rough voice, angrier than you’ve ever heard it, soft in your ear. “You better tell me I’m hallucinating you out here right now.” Your body sags, adrenaline leaving you in a florid rush, so that you’re wilting in his hold. You make a choked, garbled sort of noise in your throat, head hanging so that the weight of it is held in the cup of his palm, and you’re pretty sure you feel his head bend to nose into the back of your loose hair at the base of your skull. The two of you stand like that for a few moments while you catch your breath, and yes, that’s definitely the tip of his nose smelling at your hair, the soft place behind your ear. The feel of his skin meeting yours sparks a sort of frenzy within you, and you snap into rage, limbs jerking and shivering and throwing you into movement, pulling yourself out of his grip and whipping back to face him. In the weak light of the moon you can see that his eyes are darker and angrier than you’ve ever seen them. Even that time you were incredibly stupid and clumsy and had slipped on a ladder you shouldn’t have been climbing, for a job you shouldn’t have taken and cracked a rib. He is definitely more furious with you this time.

“Let me guess,” he spits, taking an aggressive step towards you, “This is the fucking job your little fuckin’ friend got for you.” He says your name again, for the sixth time and twice in one day, and it’s enfolded in a casing of rage that feels bitter and punishing in a way that makes a sharp pain start up behind your left eyeball, deep in your brain. “How fucking stupid can you be coming out here? You’re going to get yourself killed, caught, thrown in FEDRA prison, and I’m not gonna be able to get your ass out, you hear me? You are not fuckin’ built to be out here doin’ shit like this and–”

You rush at him suddenly, using all your weight to slam your palms into his chest, the rain has started up again, and he’s slightly slippery and steaming hot beneath his wet clothes. You slam your tiny and inconsequential fists into the incredible strength of his chest, the other going up to the edge of his jaw to try and shove his face back but he’s too strong and too big and too unmoved so that you’re left to resort to simply digging your nails into the meat of his cheek like a pathetic little kitten. “I am so fucking sick–” you try and shove him again, and he takes a looming step into you, bumping his chest into yours and jostling you into taking a forced step back, “Of the way you treat me.” You drag your nails over the edge of his jaw and down his neck, trying to draw blood, incite a reaction, but he’s made of stone and you hate him. “You’re such a fucking asshole all the time, and I’m tired of it, and I hate you.” There are tears sliding down your face, and you thank the sky for the masking of the rain. “You find me so fucking burdensome, so annoying, so useless or whatever your fucking problem is with me then go away, leave me alone! What I’m doing out here is none of your business.” Another weak slam of your fists to his chest, the drag of your nails down the thick jut of his collarbone, and you shove yourself back and away from him. Chest heaving, throat choked with tears and resentment and fear and love for him.

“You hate me, huh?” he says very quietly and very calmly.

Your face spasms in frustration and rage, and you turn away from him to face the dark of the surrounding woods, hands coming up to clutch and pull at your hair. “Yes. I hate you so much,” the sobbing heaves make it all sound very convincing, you’re sure.

“And you’re tired of the way I treat you?”

Why is he so fucking calm? Maybe you should hit him again. “Yes, I am.”

“Got your little panties all in a twist, don’t you, little girl?” Little, little, little. Your heart dips down into your stomach, your arms falling to hang limply at your sides. “But I bet if I checked, they’d also be wet for me right now, wouldn’t they?” You’ve never heard his voice sound like this. You turn slowly back to look at his face again, but before you can even shake your head, deny it, he’s rushing at you, strong hand clamping painfully around your jaw, smooshing your cheeks together, and he’s seething at you through clenched teeth. “You fuckin hate me? Well I hate you back. I hate you more. More than you could ever imagine, and I fucking hate how much you make me want you.” Your eyes go wide and shocked and full of tears. “Huh? How ‘bout that? Bet you weren’t expectin’ that, were you?” He’s so angry the drawl of his accent is deepened, sharper, amputating the ends of his words with his rage, and he shoves you away by the grip on your face, leaving you to stumble in shock.

You can’t speak, can’t say anything, he’s struck you dumb. Your eyes slither down his wet form. His soaking flannel is plastered to his thick torso, big, bulging arms and wide chest, his long legs encased in dark denim. When your gaze makes its way back up to his face he’s scowling at you. “Got nothin’ to say?” You take a tiny step back and he matches it with one of his own forward, a half jerk of your chin. “Have you let that stupid fuck have you?”

And you really weren’t expecting that, “What?” voice confused and breathy, heat pooling low in your tummy. You look over his shoulder at the dark space behind him, “Where’s Tess?”

He shakes his head, irritated and short, “I pissed her off. She stayed back. Adam – are you letting him fuck you?” Another step forward to match one of your own, and his eyes flash down to your feet, he gives a slight shake of his head as if to warn you off of your retreat.

This angers you. “What do you care who I’m letting have me? What if he is fucking me? As if that’s any of your damn business.” You take two more steps back, and his face spasms in anger.

“Fucking run,” he whispers, “I dare you.” Your legs lock in obstinacy, you’re not doing what he tells you anymore. “Answer me. Are you letting him fuck you?”

“No.” Pathetic.

“But he wants to.”

“Yes.”

Something verging on a snarl deep in his chest, “And he brought you out here? Left you out here alone? When he wants you like that? And you were stupid enough to let him?” But suddenly, something is clicking inside of your mind, and you’re not really paying attention to the things he’s saying to you anymore. He’s angry. He’s jealous. You give him a little smile and oh, that really pisses him off. You give another step back, nod your head gently at him, soft smile widening. Another deep, rumbly sound that makes your cunt go soft and wet and your heart gallop inside of you. “You better fucking run, little girl. You’re not going to like what happens when I get my hands on you, and I’m not going to care.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a promise, and you don’t need him to tell you twice. You spin on your heel and make a run for it. Weaving through the trees, guided by the weak light of the rainy moon, you know there are houses a short ways west, and you pump your legs and arms as fast as you can in that direction. You’ll hide in one of them. If he finds you, catches you is a thought for when or if he does so. But you can hear the heavy pound of his boots slamming against the ground behind you, close enough to jostle your heart up into your throat, and you let out an entirely inappropriate little squeal as you do your best to speed up. But he’s stronger, legs longer and more powerful and being caught was an inevitability. As soon as the first house comes into view an uncompromisingly strong arm is wrapping around your waist, painfully crushing your ribs in the circle of his grasp and slamming you into his chest. He comes to a jerking halt with you held in his arms, and the length of his panting, steaming body presses into your back, his other arm coming up to circle you as well, and he reaches for your heaving breast, clutching the heavy weight of it tightly in his hand and squeezing a ragged moan out of the both of you at the same time. “Caught you,” he whispers into your throat, pressing a thick, growing erection into your bottom. He spins you in his hold, nothing gentle about the way he handles you, grips you by the jaw forcing your mouth open, fingers digging between your molars and slams his mouth to yours, wet tongue licking into you, tasting behind your teeth, the surface of your tongue. You moan and claw and scratch at him, trying to hit him and pull him closer and push him away, all at the same time. Hand snaking from your jaw to fist in the back of your hair he yanks your head back, wet mouth left open and panting and that anger is different now, something unrecognizable about it when he says, “More than anything though, I hate how much I want this cunt.” His hand on your waist has slithered down over your ass and between your legs to cup your pussy in his wide hand, fingers pressing harshly at the seam of your denim over your clit. You think you must whisper his name because he nods his head once, and then is bending at the knees to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly and straightening to his full height again with you slung over the thick mass of his wide shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You don’t even protest, just lay there limply, arms and hair hanging overhead and swaying with the rhythm of his gait as he starts to walk towards the first house, and all you can think is finally.

He does two slow roves around the house before he tries the backdoor handle, in the end, simply resorting to kicking it in. He pauses at the threshold for a moment, and he’s not even slightly out of breath with the entirety of your weight folded over his shoulder after that chase. The ground is so far away from where you hang, he’s so tall, and you can’t help it when you drag your hand up the denim over the back of his thigh, over the thick swell of muscle of his ass to the edge of his jeans where you tuck your fingers in, feeling the heat of his damp skin. He growls at that, at the feel of your exploration and grips the back of one of your thighs tightly, the other coming up to squeeze an ass cheek in his hand, and then you feel the press of his face and the sharp bite of his teeth as he sinks them into the side of your ass over the thick fabric of your pants with a gruff snarl. You whimper, digging your fingers into the muscles of his lower back. He kicks the door shut behind you and moves slowly through the entire house after that, pistol gripped in one hand, you in the other, making sure the house is alone and secure. When he’s finally assured himself that the two of you are alone, he makes his way to one of the bedrooms, shutting and locking the door behind the two of you and then ripping the old dusty comforter and pillows off the bed where he shucks you off his shoulder, letting you fall to the mattress with a limp bounce. He doesn’t even ask, doesn’t say anything, simply starts at the laces of your boots, pulling them from your feet and then your socks where he lifts your small foot, big hand wrapped entirely around the thing of it, and drags his teeth over your sensitive instep. You moan, trying to pull your limb away from him, but he flashes you a hot and warning look and you settle. What’s the point in fighting, you think, if this is the very thing you’ve wanted all this time anyways? He pulls you up by the lapels of your too thin jacket, which he tuts at recriminatingly, divests you of it. Before he pushes you back to flop on the bed again, he grips you by the throat to lick into your mouth once more, moans deep and wanton in his chest, a vibration of sound you’ve never before heard from any man at the simple taste of you. He works at your jeans and sweater next, then finally your panties and bra. He doesn’t seem to really look until you’re finally entirely bare for him, limbs splayed out, soft and loose and too sticky sweet. His eyes are like fire, they burn, and you stretch and arch for him, letting him scorch you. He falls forward, propped up over you by the strength of his thick arms and dips his head to suck a single nipple into his mouth, opens his jaw wider and bites at the full globe of your breast as if he could swallow the entire thing. He moves to give the other one equal attention, your hands coming up to thread through his thick curls, and when he looks back up at you his gaze is manic, and if you wanted him less, maybe had more sense, it would perhaps be frightening.

“What do you want?” He asks you in a way that tells you he doesn’t really care what your answer is.

“Anything.”

He shakes his head at you as he moves to grip you beneath the bend of each knee to spread you wide for him. “Begging for things you don’t know nothin’ about.”

“I don’t care,” you tell him, “I want them anyways,” because it’s the truth, and he nods his head like he already knew, like he knows everything there is to know about you and maybe even the things that you don’t even know about yourself yet.

“You’re too young,” he shoulders his way down to lay on his belly between your thighs, and when his eyes land on your slick, swollen cunt his voice drops down to an even lower octave. “And you want this too much.”

“I know. I don’t care.” You drag your thumb over the arch of his thick eyebrow, the hairs are coarse but soft and then he lowers his mouth to your pussy.

He eats your cunt like everything else he does, a little mean. Starts with gentle laps, soft kisses, but eventually, graduates to sharp sucks and harsh nips, all teeth and tongue and plush lips so that your hips are arching in desperate and begging little motions, thrusting up into his face. When he presses first one then two of those thick long fingers into your opening it pinches in a way you weren't expecting. Only his fingers have you twinging on the verge of discomfort, and you don’t know how you’ll take his cock, but you know he isn’t going to give you the opportunity for choice or pause, and so you lay there and spread your legs wider and take it. He interchanges between rough and gentle, fingers petting softly at that sensitive place inside of you you’ve always wanted to give him, but mouth sharp and mean sucking harshly at your clit, nipping at the lips of your sex and the vulnerable soft of your thighs, covering the entirety of your pussy with his mouth and then licking at your fluttering hole when he pulls his fingers from you to taste the rivulet of slick you’re weeping for him. He groans and you watch the shift of his shoulders and back, the thrust of his hips as he grinds his cock into the mattress desperately, the gathering of sweat at his hairline. He presses his fingers back in, crooks and shakes them inside of you to jostle your orgasm forward, and like every other time you’ve followed him into complacency and obedience blindly, you gush for him, a broken sob of his name splintering from behind the line of your teeth. He’s sucking and kissing at your clit, the space above where his fingers penetrate you, but when you throw your arm over your eyes to hide the sight of your overwhelmed tears from him he pauses, “Want your eyes on me when you’re coming for me, you understand?” A pinch to your asscheek, a kiss to the top of your mound. You sniffle, shifting your head to rest your cheek on your shoulder and watch him over the swell of your breasts as he resumes the work of his mouth on you. He licks through your folds, pulling his fingers from you to lap up all of your spilled lust, and when he’s done, pulling back to look down at you like some conquering villain he reaches down and pats the top of your cunt, “She’s mine now,” he tells you, and you can’t even dispute it. He kneels between your spread legs, a murmured, wanna look at you, as he starts on the buttons of his shirt, pulling it open and baring himself to you. You’d already seen his naked chest that other time, and the memory of it embitters the moment, you turn your face into the crook of your raised arms, hiding your face away from him, and he tuts at you. “Told you, want those gorgeous eyes on me at all times.” And you love him, Christ, you do. It’s the most unfair thing in the world, the most painful thing that’s ever happened to you in your entire life. You want to cry and scream and kick. You obey anyways. Shifting your face with a small sniffle to peer up at him from beneath your lashes. You want to pull your legs closed, feeling suddenly, unbearably shy and hurt and newly made. Like the orgasm he’d pulled forth from you had brought to light the reality of your existence in the world, in his life. A non entity.

And like he can read your mind, like he’s acquired a direct line of communication for himself to your brain, your very heart: “Me and Tess haven’t been anything for a while.” He goes for the button of his jeans, you listen to the teeth of the zipper parting for you. “Not since you started coming around.” You would like to ask him to stop. You make to close your legs, your cunt like a wound in the shape of your desire for him, bared and obvious to the whole world, but he grips you about the round of your knee, squeezing the joint and keeping you spread for him. “I just couldn’t anymore. And the other day– what you saw the other day was just me being desperate and pathetic and unfairly angry at you. It was me being weak and stupid, and that isn’t an excuse.” He stands and shucks his jeans, he’s not wearing underwear, and God, you want him with a sort of desperation that’s unhinged and maybe even wrong or depraved. “She knows we’ve been through. Told her again today, but still… I needed to stay away to keep you away. This shouldn't be happening right now, and yet it’s going to anyway, and after this, it’s going to keep happening–” Your heart flames into elation, and then goes frozen and bitter all at the same time. You want to kick him away, but settle for trying to twist away from him. Angry and hurt and not wanting to hear anymore, to think about him fucking her, of their shared history, their relationship.

You try and wriggle away, but he pulls you back by your hips, big hands sliding up the slopes of your waist to squeeze and knead at your breasts. You grip and claw at him, “I don’t care, I don’t care. I don’t want to hear any of it. You’ve been so–” you gasp on a sob.

“I know,” he nuzzles into your skin. “I know,” a kiss to your jaw and his bare form is settling between your thighs, his thick, long cock coming to rest heavily over the wet, parted seam of your cunt. You gasp at the feel of him there. “Don’t think I’ve ever wanted to take something for myself as badly as I wanted to take you. It made me mean as a dog.” He sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting gently. His mouth is everywhere, his hands gripping and pinching at your breasts, clutching at your ass to grind his hard cock against your pussy. He pulls back, and the wide head notches at your entrance. Oh, please, fuck me, fuck me. Finally.

“Gonna fuck your little cunt, baby. Make you all mine.”

“Please, Joel.” He goes slowly at first, fat head catching on the rim, popping it in and out, he pauses to look down, only his tip held inside of you, and he spits, right at the place where the two of you’re connected, smears it in with his fingers.

“Hot little pussy. Gonna take the whole thing, greedy little girl. Aren’t you?” You nod your head stupidly, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and wet, and you wonder if he can read that you’re in love with him there. You kind of hope he can. He presses in slowly so that you’re forced to feel every bump and ridge, your hips rocking unconsciously, trying to take more faster, but he’s big, thick and heavy, and the taking is not easy. You’re left gasping and arching, writhing wantonly on his cock by the time he’s sunk balls deep inside of you. There’s a bead of sweat sliding down the slope of his cheek, and you have to force yourself to keep your mouth shut and your tongue inside with the hopes of catching it there. He pants and groans, pulling and pressing you closer into him, grinding deep so that the wide head rubs at the mouth of your cervix. You can feel the ripple and shiver of your muscles, your body trying to adjust to such a large invasion and he kisses and licks at your face, your neck and shoulders and tits, and when your breathing has finally settled he pulls back to look down at you, gives a few light thrusts of his hips, eyes glued to the place where your cunt swallows him, spread obscenely, fit to burst around him. He looks back up at you, “Have you adjusted?” A pause for a brief nod of your head, “Yes? Good. Not gonna be gentle.” You don’t think you’ve ever wanted him to be gentle. After all, the way you’ve always felt about him has never been gentle in turn either. His thrusts take on a brutal edge, the wet slap of his balls against your ass loud and sticky against the slick curve of your ass. “Fucking Christ,” he bends his head to nip at your breast, big hand coming up to squeeze the entire thing and suck it into his mouth, “Got the wettest little cunt, baby.”

You want to beg him to go harder, deeper, to fuck you like he’s in love with you. “It’s yours,” you whisper instead.

“Yeah– fuck yes, it is. Yeah, baby, take my cock. Just like that.” He grips you by the knee, bringing your ankle to his shoulder to bob limply there, folding you entirely in half so that he can drill into you, and you reach up to hook your fingers against the edge of his bottom teeth, pulling his mouth open to peer inside. He laps and bites at your fingers, grips your own jaw, your throat, and you drag your nails down his jaw, his neck leaving little scorches of hurt in your wake. “Wanna see you fucked full of my come. Wanna see you leaking me. You gonna let me fill you up, sweet girl?”

Yes, yes, yes, please. Please, fill me up.

Your other ankle thrown over his shoulder now too, he presses his entire weight into you, his face pressed against yours, whispering into your skin, “And if I fuck you full of my baby? What’ll you do then? Hate me more?”

“No, no, never,” voice delirious and filled with a sort of frenetic energy he seems to be able to harness at whim. “Please, please, fuck me full of your baby. Please, I want it so bad, Joel. I do, I do.” He pauses his thrusts, holds there in the depths of you, grinds and squeezes you so tight you think a lung might burst.

When he pulls back the look on his face is just as unhinged as you’ve always felt about him. “Fucking Christ,” he starts to slam back into you, thumb at your clit, the other cradling the bowl of your skull in his palm, fingers woven through your hair. “Yeah– yeah, I’m gonna do it,” he grits. “Then it won’t fucking matter if you hate me or not. You’ll be stuck with me anyways.” He bends to kiss you again, and he tastes like violence, you lick into his mouth, take in the taste of his tongue. When he pulls back to look down at where he’s fucking into you, you reach down to grasp the half of his cock outside of your wet clutch, you want to feel where he’s caliming you, shiny with your slick, you half jack him off with sharp little tugs. “Come inside me, come inside me.” He changes the angle, punches at your g-spot, and the rub of your hand over your clit where you’re gripping him, the feel of his skin, his voice, the slide of his cock, in, in, in, and you’re both shivering and jerking with orgasm, throbbing into one another as he starts to fill you with his spend, his teeth bared in a growl as he marks you with himself. His hips slow, press and grind, and you feel the heavy jerk of his cock inside of you as your muscles work to suck him deeper, milking his come out of him with each tightening pull of your cunt. He presses his face into the damp crook of your shoulder, licks at the sweat gathered there, mouths wetly at your jaw, and you run your hands up the bumps and ridges of his muscled back. There’s a slight tremble running through him, and you hope it means he’s as overwrought by this as you are, that he wanted this as badly as you did, that he’ll want it again as desperately as you already do. He starts to shift, moving down the length of your body, kissing and licking as he goes, his sated cock slipping wetly from your cunt with a shuddered groan from him as he settles back again between your legs and starts to lick the slick from your overwrought cunt. Not seeming to care that he’s eating his own come as well. “Look so pretty drooling me here,” he murmurs, thumbing gently at your trembling opening. “Gonna fill it every day now. Fuck it full of my baby. You want that?” He looks up at you with a sly look, nipping at your thigh, sucking marks into your skin, all you can do is nod. Once he’s through licking you he crawls back up your body, wedges your jaw open and with a puckered mouth lets a long string of spit and come slowly seep out of his mouth and into your open, waiting one. It’s disgusting and dirty and entirely delicious.

As he flops back on top of you heavily, you drag your nails up and down his skin, threading your fingers through his curls and angling his head to hide beneath the edge of your jaw. His breathing starts to slow and deepen after a while, and you smile lightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him like snaking, strangling vines, and pressing your nose into the thick of his hair, taking in the musky, masculine scent of him, you know that after this you'll do anything, anything to keep him here with you just like this.

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fanaticsnail · 5 months

Text

Run Away With Me

Woah, boy! Longest one-shot to date right here. Loved writing it, I hope you enjoy reading it.

Word Count: 9,388

Warnings: injury, angst, fluff, romance, dark thoughts, crying, barely proof-read, mentions of prior relationship and entanglement with another person (no smut). First time writing for Luffy.

Song suggestions are here (primary song I was repeating on a loop), and here (because I wanted to feel more pain). Masterlist here.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you gathered your skirts, sprinting with iron-willed determination towards the docks. Propelled by sheer rage, grief and adrenaline; you continued to sob through your staggered breaths. You heeded no mind to the jagged edges of rocks and stone digging harshly into your bare heals and toes, surely leaving them cut and bleeding in your swift stride.

In the distance, the figurehead of the ship continued to disappear along the horizon; eclipsed by the dawning rays of the sun cascading along the surface of the blue water. Your feet picked up the pace, refusing to relinquish your determination to meet your feet against the polished deck of the ship; holding onto your fruitless dream as the ship continued to flee from your sights.

“Never fall in love with a marine,” you heard echo throughout your mind, “a sailor, nor a pirate. Sea-travelled men will always leave, and you will be alone to bare your shame.”

Another sob fell from your lips as you continued to hold your sights onto the pale white flag of the ship, the logo of the marines waving tauntingly towards you at its retreat. Your eyes had dried up from relinquishment of your stock of tears. There was nothing left but fury.

He had left you.

After spending a night together in the strong arms of your marine: beautiful gestures and spindled words of promises of “forever,” he had left you isolated and humiliated; which he assured you he would never do.

Your feet burned against the harsh coarse sand, propelling you further towards the path of the peer. Many ships, fishermen and sailors beginning to set sail themselves; heeding you no mind as you rubbed your eyes with the back of your forearm, taking a moment to catch your breath.

Heart aching, lips quivering and lungs heavily burdened by sharp inhales and exhales; a growl of frustration and rage fled from your lips as you once again picked up your pace against the wooden, ocean-cracked planks beneath your feet. The ocean air was heavily impacted by the scent of the morning breeze, the ocean tide pulling outwards and into the sea, revealing the hardened sand beneath its retreat.

Hardening your resolve, you brushed your body past a man with a straw hat upon his head, shoving him as you propelled your body further down the dock to bring yourself closer towards the vessel that began its strategic withdrawal from your gaze.

Your bare feet stung as they pressed against the waterworn wood of the docks with sand clinging to the open wounds. Your body ached with overexertion but continued to pitifully drive yourself further towards the end of the peer. You had given everything to him. Your mind, your body, your soul; your heart. You were his and he was yours: only for a single night of passion for him to leave you abandoned and ashamed in your scorn.

Propelling with great strides and paying no mind to the end of the wooden dock concluding its path beneath your feet, a final sob escaped from your lips as you halted your sprint; holding your arms in front of you to steady yourself as your toes clung to the end of the peer.

Dropping carelessly to your knees, you continued to hold your unblinking stare on the ship your marine had sailed upon. The blood from your feet began to dry and cling to your skin as the ship became smaller and smaller in the distance, the tears drying within their ducts and shrouding with a welded seal atop them.

“I will never trust a sailing man again,” you uttered to yourself as your legs began to tingle from their extended hold beneath your weight, “never again.”

You placed your right hand against the wooden floor beneath you, shifting your weight atop your palm while wincing in pain at the damage done to your feet; attempting to raise to stand.

“Woah,” a voice exclaimed from beside you, “what happened to you?”

You looked up, the morning sun shining through the small holes in the yellow straw-hat atop a man with dark hair and mischievous, dark eyes. You were immediately taken by the innocence and sincerity in his voice as he raked his eyes over your legs and feet, assessing the damage your lengthy sprint caused to your broken skin.

“The love of a man,” you confessed darkly, a sinister chuckle falling from your lips as you trailed your gaze towards your stinging and blistering feet.

“Must’ve been some man,” he nodded with a downturned smile and bobbing his head to the side with a shrug. He stooped down to your level, offering his hand out as an added support and an introduction; “I’m Monkey D. Luffy.”

“A pleasure, truly,” you said, a sarcastic nod of your head and roll of your eyes accompanying your words. You looked from his large caramel-coloured orbs to his extended hand and apprehensively reached forward to receive his aid to stand to your feet. You winced under the pain of the fresh welts forming; realising truly only now how dishevelled you looked in the moment.

You were wearing only your white lace, sleeping camisole with a layered white skirt you hoisted to cover yourself in your sprint. Your skin lay peppered with lustful, red marks from last night’s romantic tussle within your bedsheets with the marine; your hair blown out and wild and desperate from the sprint towards the peer; your eyes stained with the memory of dried tears.

“Can you stand?” he asked with furrowed brows as he began to aid your ascension, watching you wince.

“Honestly,” you voice strained under the pain, “not really, but what choice do I have?”

He hummed in thought, examining your body momentarily before immediately squatting to bring himself lower to your body; hooking one arm beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, easily hoisting you upwards and cradle you into himself. A startled shriek fell from your lips as the warmth of his body and comfort of his actions welcomed you into himself.

“How’s this?” he asked with a warm, wolfy-grin. Your eyes widened at his movement, gazing into his innocent face in surprise at his well-natured intent.

“This is fine,” you squeaked out through your lips, clenching your teeth tightly shut in surprise.

“Oh, good,” he nodded in reply, turning away from the view of the ocean and beginning to walk with you in his arms towards the town once more. “Hold up,” he stated, feeling the grip of you within his arms and shifting you with a small hop, “can I adjust you a little bit?”

You furrowed your brows and reluctantly nodded your head. As soon as you bobbed your head in affirmation, a wider grin dawned on his face as he threw you into the air; a shriek falling from your lips as he hooked his arms beneath your knees, your body falling to land against his back as he caught you. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around the front of his neck and clung to the shoulders of his brass-buttoned shirt, hooking your knees over his waist and falling your ankles to his back.

“That’s better,” he commented with a laugh, beginning a brisk pace towards the heart of town. He effortlessly walked with you clutched tightly against the back of his red waistcoat, as he walked over the peer towards the dunes of the beachfront.

“Hey back there,” he called over his shoulder to you, prompting you to look at his cheek and the corner of his eye. “You reckon you could show me where the library is?” he asked you, maintaining his pace into town, “my navigator needs a book and I’m not sure where to start.”

You gleefully laughed at his question, adjusting your arms around his neck to ease his carry of you and gesturing towards the tall, washed sand-stone building to the left of the town.

“You’re in luck,” you smirked into him, placing your chin on his shoulder and your cheek flush against his own beneath the broad brim of the yellow straw hat, “I’m the resident librarian here.”

“You don’t say,” he chuckled warmly, looking at you through his long, dark eyelashes out of the corner of his eye; before turning to follow your extended gesture towards the building.

You hummed against his cheek, enjoying the company and aid he was providing to you on your way back towards your building. You ignored the throb of your feet under the pain and the burn of your body. Your rage had dwindled to a slow smoulder the longer you spent clutching the back of the man beneath your thighs as he carried you towards home, swinging your ankles with each step he took towards the building.

As you approached the large wooden door, Luffy stooped his back down to allow you to reach forward and use your thumb to pull the large leaver of the brass-hooked nob down and shove the door open. You couldn’t help the laugh falling from your lips as he continued to chaperone you on his back through the doors to your library.

“You can just set me down now,” you smiled at him, gesturing to a small desk and chair at the foyer of the large room, “and if you could please make sure the sign is flipped over to read ‘closed’, I would really appreciate it.”

Luffy walked you over to the foyer, opting to sit you down atop the tall desk rather than the chair; unhooking his arms from behind your legs and stalking back towards the door and looking at the sign. You sighed in relief of his relinquishment of his hold of your body; instinctively reaching towards your feet to assess the damage of the heels of your feet and the spirited wounds clutching to your ankles with your fingers.

“Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” the man who carried you to your home spoke suddenly. You realised his close proximity to you as you tore your gaze away from your wounded feet towards his awaiting eyes. You sighed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you readjusted yourself under your skirts, brushing the dried sands away from your feet.

“Nothing compared to the number he did on my heart,” you chuckled darkly, hooking your right knee over your left and lacing your fingertips together expectantly; “you said something about a book your navigator needed. Does that mean you’re a sailor?”

“Something like that,” he confirmed with a nod and a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I’m a pirate.”

“A pirate?” you asked through baited breath, halting at the title he bestowed onto himself. Although the town you were currently residing in was welcoming to all travelling individuals of colour and creed; piracy was still a taboo occupation amongst the townsfolk.

“And one day,” he confirmed, leaning in towards your body, “I will find the One-Piece and be King of the Pirates.”

Your eyes widened at his proclamation before holding an air of surprise over them, absolutely believing it be possible with his hardened resolve and playful attitude.

“And what book did you require?” you asked him, tilting your face up towards him and quirking your left brow upwards in question.

“You know what?” he began, halting his words as he gawked at the sheer number of books located in your library, “I’m not sure. I think it was something to do with translation? Looking for stones? A way to bring us closer to the All-Blue? I dunno-,” he scratched his chin thoughtfully, “-all I know is, it was important.”

Your face dropped, eyes narrowing as you shook your head and tilted your chin downwards.

“Well, while you figure that out,” you sighed, a small smile falling to your face, “do you think you could pour me some water into that bowl over there,” you gestured to the sink, “and bring it over to me with a cloth?”

He followed your gaze, locating a blue and white terracotta ceramic dish in the corner or the room by your sink. He walked over to the dish and began to fill the container to the brim, waddling over towards you with liquid splashing over the edges with each step he took towards you. You creased your brows at him in response, but your smile remained plastered on your face.

“Okay,” Luffy said, placing the dish down beside you atop the bench, “now what?”

“Now, I’m going to wash my feet and assess the damage,” you nodded down to the blistering welts, purple hued bruises and slices of flesh peeled back under your harsh, barefoot sprint, “and you’re going to focus your thoughts on what book you were looking for.”

Looking down towards your bare feet, Luffy winced a little in empathy. His eyes then widened in thought, floating his gaze back up to glance into your face once again.

“Tell you what,” he declared with a joyful expression adorning his cheeks, “if you talk with me about books to help me remember,” he stepped closer towards you, “I’ll fix your feet up for you. Does that sound okay?”

You were taken aback, yet again, at the thoughtfulness of this complete stranger; as he immediately moved to gather your chair and place it in front of you and sat atop it.

“Lay it on me!” he declared with a loud, smiling voice; patting his thigh and gesturing to your right foot. You quirked your brow upwards and hesitantly hooked your right leg over your left knee in front of the hat-adorned pirate in front of you. He firmly gasped your ankle and pulled your foot towards his face. You winced in pain and shrieked again at the action, prompting him to look back up at you again.

“Sorry,” he grit his teeth and softened his eyes up at you. Reaching his hands towards the cloth, he dampened it in the water and began carefully wiping at your skin to remove the dried sand and blood from your foot, ankle and calf.

“Take my mind off it,” you stated through your own clenched jaw, “tell me about the conversation with the navigator, or where you’re journeying to. Might give me a hint on helping you find the book you need.”

He smiled at you, continuing to swipe at your tender flesh of your right foot; checking it over for any serious injury and removing the stains of pain from you.

“I can tell you about my crew if you like?” he smiled down at your foot, focussing his attention on a particularly deep puncture wound on the ball of your foot, “I have Nami, my navigator. She’s really smart,” he removed a piece of stone from your foot, you wincing at it with a small yelp. He again looked up at you, eyes full of sympathy as he rubbed his thumb over the wound to sooth it with his pressure.

“Nami sounds wonderful,” you smiled down at him, quirking your head and softening your eyes.

“Oh, she is,” he confirmed with a broad grin, “and then there’s Zoro. He’s the First Mate, an ex-bounty hunter. Best swordsman I’ve ever known.”

You nodded along, actively listening to the words falling from the man in front of you and imagining what life must look like for him.

“And there’s Usopp,” Luffy tapped your right foot gently to indicate for you to switch your legs over for him to pay equal attention to your left, “he’s our sharp-shooter.”

You unhooked your right leg from atop your left knee and switched over to your left hooking atop your right; smoothing your skirt over your thighs to keep yourself gracefully shrouded from unintentional exposure. He whispered his fingertips over your shin with his right hand while reaching behind your calf with his left to hold it firmly in place.

Breath hitching in your throat, a warm blush rose to your cheeks at his touch. He set to smoothing over your foot, dampening the cloth once more and rinsing your wounded heels and toes with the rag.

“Then there’s Sanji, the chef. He’s amazing at cooking,” Luffy continued, “I especially like the way he prepares pork,” he hummed, eyes glazing over in thought; “I love meat. Meat is my favourite.”

You giggled at his utterance, biting your lip to halt the rise of emotion up into your chest.

“And where do you fit into the crew?” you asked him breathily, “you made no mention of your captain either.”

“That’s because I am the captain,” he tilted his head to look back into your eyes, “and like I said, I will be king of the pirates one day. Gotta start somewhere.”

You gasped at the thought; a pirate captain humbling himself before you and taking care of your wounds after your heart was shattered by a lowly marine cadet. Maybe you had been too hasty in your decision of swearing off travelling men. You shook your head at the thought, softening your gaze down at him as he focussed on cleaning the dried blood from your feet.

“And where are you travelling to, captain?” you asked him softly, watching how carefully he picked at the rocks imbedded in your flesh to rid them from you.

“The Grand Line,” he stated nonchalantly with a shrug. You sighed out sharply with a laugh at him, prompting him to playfully grin up at you.

“You’re really doing it, then?” you asked him, leaning your hands against the desk you were sat atop and shifting your weight onto them, “travelling dangerous waters in search of Gol D. Roger’s One-Piece?”

“Yep,” he confirmed. He hesitated at releasing your foot from his grip, looking down at your feet and tilting his head to the side in deep thought.

“You’d need some knowledge about volcanic activity below sea level and how to navigate the cross,” you nodded before tilting your head back to look at the roof of the library, “probably changes in weather impacting the sails and steering of the ship as you travel. You might also need direction on edible weeds and plants on your journey. Again, lucky for you; I adore reading up on the subject and well versed in-,”

“-Come with me,” Luffy uttered suddenly, holding firm his gaze at your feet, “be my historian. You have everything I’m missing and I want you on my crew.”

You furrowed your brows, snapping your gaze back from its hold on the roof and back towards the stranger in front of you. You gawked at him as he continued: “well, I don’t have a musician or a doctor yet, but I also need a historian,” he shrugged, adding a simple: “be mine.”

You quivered, your eyes flittering between his caramel orbs in awe as he floated his eyes up to join with yours.

“I-I,” you stuttered, unhooking your knees and leaning towards him, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll run away with me,” he leaned forward with a playful grin, “be my historian, join my crew.”

You shut your eyes tightly in thought, imagining what your life might look like sailing the seas as a pirate; fleeing from the embarrassment from last nights’ overexertion and lustful activities and hiding from baring the brunt of your shame. You breathed out a long exhale, reopening your eyes and jumping slightly in surprise to see the captain standing incredibly close in proximity to you now; his body situated to stand between your knees with a broad smile.

“What do you say?” he asked you, grinning wider in question and leaning in closer.

You searched the sincere eyes of the brunette captain in front of you, finding only sincerity in its wake. He truly meant every word falling charismatically from his lips, persuading you with his genuineness and positivity.

“Who will take care of the books here?” were the only thoughts falling, truly reaching for any reason to remain behind.

“Bring them with you,” he shrugged, “we’ve got room. C’mon, I need you. You’ll love the crew, and they’ll love you.”

He brought his body away from its close proximity to you and began to turn away from you to make his way towards the door.

“We’ll be docked for another day to restock the kitchen,” he opened the door, turning his back once more to you, “we’re leaving the following morning. If you’re coming, let me know tonight at the tavern and I’ll help you bring your stuff.”

He waved, before turning back around and shut the door quietly behind him with a small ‘click’.

Astonishment overcame you in all aspects. You fell your eyes to your cleaned and tidied feet, no longer aching nor stinging from the impact of your hasty sprint towards your marine ex-lover. Your body became overwhelmed with emotions. You had no more tears to flee from your ducts at the thoughts of the military man; the only remnants of your time together were the marks littering your collarbone, neck and chest from his passionate ministrations. He used words to get what he wanted from your body physically, fleeing once you had given yourself willingly to him before you woke.

Now here comes this pirate, no expectations falling onto you a part from a place on his ship and a welcome into his familial crew. He was giving you the ending you so desperately desired from your marine lover; to be whisked away from your town and romantically swept into the horizon aboard a mighty vessel.

The only aspect halting you from readying yourself and your supplies and running into servitude aboard a pirate ship were two things: your feet, legs and body ached under the earlier sprint: damage truly impacting your ability to walk.

The other inhibition is the purpose for your travel. You would move the heavens and the earth to feel true, open and honest love for an individual; the true purpose you clung so tightly to the marine. You desired love: to love and be loved in return. Romanticism clung to you like the scent of baked goods wafting from a baker’s door; filling the fibres of your being with the desire of deep, relentless devotion and adoration.

Luffy offered you no such relentless devotion; friendship and kinship being the only things he truly offered to you. There was no romantic notions of love and affection; just truly alliance through acquaintanceship and comradery. Sucking in a sharp inhale, you jumped down from your place atop the desk and planted your feet against the ground firmly. Expecting more pain in anticipation than you truly felt, you shrugged at the dull pain and began to slowly limp up the spiral staircase towards your sleeping area above the large library.

You looked down at your collection from the balcony; your shop being relatively small in comparison to the great libraries of old; but beautiful none the less. You were unsure whether you would’ve truly left it all behind for the marine, only wanting to reach the peer to demonstrate your absolute fury towards him in front of his commander and servicemen. Were you prepared to leave it for a man who promised you nothing than friendship?

Shaking your head, you looked down at your feet which began to heal over with rapidity. The memory of the way he tenderly held your skin and tentatively brushed his hands over your flesh to care for it overcame you, your heart swelling at the feeling.

With no family to impart their thoughts and wisdom onto you, you rolled your shoulders back and glanced down towards the variety of shelves of your beloved books before a ghost of sorrow fell over your face. You will miss their pages, but the notion of belonging to the seas as they carried you from place to place enchanted you. You will join them, and hopefully romance will find you on your journeys.

Wolfing down plate after plate of smoked brisket, honeyed hams and braised lamb shoulder; Luffy’s brows furrowed in thought of his encounter with the librarian. Zoro’s frown deepened at his Captain’s expression, noting his usual cheeriness was missing from his aura.

“What happened?” Zoro grumbled through his lips, reclining against the wooden chair and raising a brown-stained glass bottle to his lips and taking a swig.

“I mwet uh raidy,” Luffy attempted to relay through a full mouth.

“Try again,” Zoro ordered, eyes rolling at the display the captain was offering him, “swallow your food first.”

Luffy nodded, shutting his eyes with a flutter of eyelashes and wincing at swallowing the large quantity of meat in his mouth, before uttering; “I met a lady.”

“A lady?” Zoro asked, narrowing his eyes at him in question, “what kind of lady?”

“A really smart one,” Luffy nodded, reaching for a large roasted turkey leg with a citrus glaze oozing from the crisped skin, “I want her.”

Usopp choked on his food, spluttering a little at the uninhibited thoughts falling from the lips of his captain without filter.

“In what capacity?” Zoro asked with a quirk of his brow, not acknowledging Usopp’s choked action nor the captain’s unfiltered expression.

“As my historian,” he said, biting into the meat and rolling his eyes back at the flavour, “uhnd ash mai feund.”

“Swallow your food,” Zoro ordered, pausing between each word as he spoke them slowly, “then speak.”

Luffy nodded, waving his hand dismissively in front of his face as he chewed and choked down his food enthusiastically, “as my historian, and as my friend.”

Zoro nodded, taking the glass neck of the bottle and tipping the amber fizzed ale back between his lips and draining the remainder of the contents from within.

“She’s so pretty,” Luffy whispered beneath his breath to himself, “even when she’s sad, she’s pretty.”

“Why was she sad?” the orange-haired navigator said as she took a seat beside Luffy, her plate containing a small portion of crème brulee with fresh berries and whipped cream atop it, “and did you manage to get the book on volcanic plate shifting?”

Luffy turned to her with a small smile, “some marine left her here, I think.”

“Marines are assholes,” Nami confirmed with a nod, sinking a small teaspoon into the bowl, breaking the solidified sugar layer and scooping a portion of the custard-cream beneath it, “and the book?”

“I don’t want the book,” Luffy nodded, turning back to the tray of meat in front of him, “I just want her.”

“And if she doesn’t want to come?” Usopp chimed in, looking at Nami’s dessert longingly, “not everyone dreams of sailing the seas, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Luffy shrugged, reaching for more of the shredded, smoked brisket and spooning a large portion onto his plate with a large ‘slap’, “something tells me she might.”

You had changed into some light travel clothes; choosing to bandage and strap your feet and ankles beneath laced and comfortable shoes to aid in the healing of your cracked and damaged feet. You showered, changed and arranged a cohesive arrangement of clothes over your body to meet with your new captain together with his crew for the first time. Holding every intention of travelling with the assortment of pirates, you decided to meet with them at the tavern to inform them of your intentions of travelling with them as their historian.

Walking down the stone path slowly, wincing a little at a subtle wrong step which aggravated your injured feet; you made it to the tavern and smiled as soon as your gaze fell to the straw-hatted captain sitting at a table with four others; who you assumed were members of his crew. You examined each of them, first starting with Nami; the only woman Luffy made mention of in the prior conversation.

The best part about being a book-smart individual was the ability to remember knowledge at a rapid and ever expanding capacity. Your eyes fell to a sword at the hip of a green-haired, tall man; your mind informing you ‘Zoro’. You travelled your gaze over to the bandana-clad man in front of Luffy, noticing placed beside him on the table was a sling-shot; “Usopp” rolling over in your mind. All that was left was-.

“Hello, beautiful,” a voice called at your side, prompting you to shift your focus to a tall, blonde man with a tailored black suit jacket fastened with brass buckles, a dark tie upon his neck.

“Sir,” you nodded your head at him, a polite smile rising to your face. You travelled your gaze over him, his air of confidence and flirtation rolling off of him in waves. Noticing his proximity to the travelling assortment you were planning on meeting, you determined this was the chef Luffy mentioned earlier.

“I’m S-,” he began, halting only as you spoke over him.

“-Sanji,” you smiled warmly now, reaching out your right hand to meet with his in a friendly welcome, “Luffy told me about you earlier.”

Sanji shook his head, taken slightly aback at your acknowledgement before promptly reaching down and grasping your fingertips within his right hand and rising it to his lips; placing a small kiss atop your knuckles.

“A pleasure,” he said, falling his grip from your hands while mirroring your smile, “unfortunately, I’m yet to join my crew for the evening meal, so I have no context surrounding you. Who might you be, love?”

“Your new historian,” you giggled, falling in a heavily sarcastic curtsey; prompting him to laugh in response, “and the pleasure is mine.”

At the large laughter, Luffy turned around from his seat at the table; his gaze falling to Sanji before floating his dark eyes over to meet with you.

“There she is,” he stated in a low tone, eyes widening before a cheery and triumphant laugh fell from his lips, “I knew she’d join my crew!”

“Where?” Usopp said, turning around and noticing Sanji interacting with you; his eyes equally widening, “she’s beautiful.”

“Right?” Luffy stated more in confirmation rather than question, turning back to Zoro, “isn’t she pretty?”

Zoro raked his eyes over your body, assessing the threat of you joining amongst the crew and noticing below your collar, red marks peppering your neck above your pulse and trailing down towards your clavicle. Nami noticed Zoro’s fixation and turned to acknowledge the interaction falling between you and Sanji.

“She’s stunning,” Nami said with a nod, “and you said she’s the librarian here?”

“Uh-huh,” Luffy nodded his head broadly, “she’s got so many books at her place, huge collection.”

“What were you doing at her place?” Zoro asked a little too quickly, his eyes falling from the red marks on your neck back to focus on the captain in front of him.

“Her feet were all cut up from running to catch the marine ship,” Luffy nodded again, reaching forward to take another glazed turkey leg into his hands and raise it up to his lips, “so I carried her back home and took care of her.”

Zoro hummed, turning his sights to the empty beer bottle in his hands and looking at the bar, “I’m gonna get another drink,” he declared, rising to his feet with a small grunt, “be back in a minute.”

“Sure thing,” Luffy said with a large toothy grin, “can you get me a juice while you’re up there?”

Zoro sighed, nodding in confirmation before turning away to walk towards the bar.

Sanji escorted you with his hand hovering at the small of your back, steadying you in your wincing hobble towards the table with the Straw-Hat pirate crew; sans swordsman.

“Hello Captain,” you nodded shyly, prompting Luffy to turn to face you; immediately rising to his feet at your approach.

“Hello historian!” he declared, placing his hands atop your shoulders and pulling you into a warm embrace, “I’m so glad you decided to run away with me.”

A warm blush rose itself to your cheeks at his unbridled declaration. You apprehensively placed your arms around his back, arching them up to cradle his shoulders beneath his circular grip. He sighed as he held you close to him, overjoyed at your acceptance of his offer.

“Meet the crew,” he whispered in a low hum into your cheek, slowly releasing you from his embrace, “this is-.”

“Nami,” you nodded to the orange-haired woman, “the navigator who wanted a book, I’m only assuming here, was about pressure plates on the ocean floor and volcanic activity close to the grand line?”

“Yes on both accounts,” Nami smiled, watching attentively as you reached into your satchel and retrieved a large journal for her.

“Then this little baby,” you began, reaching out your hand containing the book, “is specifically for you. Enjoy charting!”

Nami sighed a large release of air from within her chest, “finally, competency and intelligence. I am so glad you’re coming with us.”

“Me too, believe me,” you giggled before noticing the captain still remained one arm around your shoulders as he turned you to meet with Usopp.

“Usopp the sharp-shooter, I presume,” you smiled at him with a polite nod.

“That I am,” he grinned widely, basking in his acknowledgement and title.

“You really pay attention to everything, don’t you?” Luffy gawked at you in awe, before lowering his voice; praising you with, “so smart.”

The blush returned and held itself firm against your cheeks, nose and upper ears.

“All we’re missing now is-,” Luffy began, cut off by a cup being placed in his available hand by the green-haired swordsman, “-ah! Zoro! This is our historian.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you politely nodded your head towards him.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he nodded in return to you and rose the brown bottle of liquid to his lips and took a quick swig of the liquid contents within.

“You hungry?” Luffy offered, unhooking his arm from your shoulders and reaching for a chair to pull out for you, “have some meat.”

You giggled before wincing as you shifted your weight uncomfortably atop one of the painful cut on your right foot, a hand immediately reaching up to catch yours to usher you to sit.

“I got you,” Luffy grinned at you, helping you to sit atop the wooden stool against the table, “just sit down and meet the crew. You’re family now!” he grinned widely and took a seat directly next to you, piling meat onto both his and your plate and began consuming it passionately.

Sanji noticed the dynamic immediately falling between you, arching his brow upwards towards Nami; who mirrored a similar expression on her face at the interaction. Whether Luffy noticed or not, he was absolutely smitten with you, and you looked similarly cursed with infatuation towards him.

Over the following few months, your feet had healed of their afflictions and the marks on your skin from the passionate encounter with the marine cadet had all but faded into a distant memory.

Although apprehensive to leave all of your beloved, aged books behind; the mayor of the town appointed an apprentice librarian to overtake your duties under the promise that it would always first and foremost be home to you should you desire your return. You managed to pack all of the necessities and a small collection of your favourite romance novels, and useful travelling information for your navigator alongside botany and herbal remedies for the chef.

You enjoyed sitting above the deck after completing chores and ships maintenance duties, reading whatever you so desired under the rays of the afternoon sun; basking in the warmth and truly relishing in the waves clashing against the hull. Although it took a few days to adjust to the sway of the ocean, you managed to make yourself comfortable enough to sleep atop a hanging bed within your crew quarters.

One thing you still remained missing in this sea-bearing adventure was the romance you so desired. You noticed first Sanji and how flirtatious he truly was, the first who you viewed as potential suitor; but you shot down the thought immediately as it crossed over your mind, his presence and demeanour reminding you too much of the marine who swindled a night from you.

Zoro was the next on your list, but you found his aura much too intimidating and harsh in his exterior. Although he eventually did warm to you, he felt like an older brother who perpetually looked out for you and the remainder of the crew as the loyal knight; a quality that you absolutely enjoyed.

Usopp was another story entirely. He spoke so highly of his first love, a noblewoman by the name of Kaya at Syrup-Village. He remained completely taken with her, relaying tales of his encounters with gusto. The tales were what smothered the developing feelings within your chest; lying was not a quality you particularly enjoyed, especially after the tussle with the marine.

Nami was a wonderful option to you, but she immediately made it clear to all around her that she was absolutely happy to flirt a little here and there; but never take it further than just that. You enjoyed flirtations, sure; but romance was what you were truly after.

After your assessments made of your entire crew, you began to apprehensively release your dream of romance on the high seas and attempt to find a new dream to cling to.

“I have another one for you!” your captain declared to you gleefully, waving a book in the air. You smiled, turning towards him and placing your novel on the wooden bench beside you.

You had been at sea for the past week and desperately required a layover to replenish your kitchen supplies. Each time you would dock at a new port, Luffy would bring you a book to add to your collection. Every book he brought you was completely different than the other; some were romance, some were collection guides to precious metals and mineral stones, some were even children’s books.

“Thank you, Luffy,” you beamed at him, rising to your feet and approaching him and the new book he had brought to you, “what is it this time?”

“I’m not really sure,” Luffy nodded with a downturned smile, “but Sanji said it was a good one for you. The pictures look nice?”

You nodded at him, looking into his wide caramel orbs with appreciation and adoration, before turning your attention to the book within his hands and immediately shrieked in complete shock. You were unsure how both the colour could drain from someone’s face but a warm, heated blush could also rise: yet here you were; a place somewhere between bewilderment, embarrassment and complete shock at the object he had brought to you.

When the small gifts started, it was almost apparent that Luffy was not completely illiterate; just blissfully ignorant of a few things, particularly when it came to the way he acted around you. He was beautiful, his soul was sincere and his expression was without inhibitions or restraint. You always knew exactly how he was feeling, him always approaching you if he needed clarification on a subject he wasn’t well versed in.

He would always find a way to touch you, reassuring both you and himself. Whether it be: under a gentle brush of your shoulder, taking your hand within the crook of his elbow to lead you around town, steadying your hips above the deck under particularly choppy waves, taking you by the hand and bringing you over to the mast of the ship if he saw a creature jumping above the sea to greet you. His touch was a comfort to both of you, and very welcomed in its receival.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t harbour feelings of romantic notions for your captain, but under his ignorance on the subject; you chose to not pursue engaging in anything more than comradery.

And now, he has brought you a graphic guide on intimate entanglements from the North, East, South and West Blues with accompanying pictures beside their written descriptors.

“A-and you said,” you stuttered, trying to collect your thoughts, “you s-said Sanji picked this out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded with a large grin, “although, I do like some of the pictures.”

Your eyes continued to get wider at the notion that he’s looked at the explicit material within the pages; “Luffy, this is-,” you caught yourself, attempting to choose the next words as carefully as you could, “vastly different than anything you’ve brought to me so far. The last one was a children’s story about a small mouse, and now-,” you inhaled, bringing your hands together in a palm to palm clap and raising your fingertips to your nose and the crease in your brow, “-you’ve brought me an in depth guide to intimate relations.”

Luffy quirked his head to the side, with a small “Hah,” sound. He turned the book to the side and furrowed his brows in thought, “I thought it was some kind of wrestling.”

“It is in some cases, Captain,” you sighed out a shaken, slow breath and rolled your shoulders back.

“You don’t say,” he said thoughtfully, bringing his free hand to his chin and scratching it deep in thought before asking suddenly, “so, you don’t want it?”

“I never said that,” you said all to quickly for your liking, shocking both yourself and Luffy, “I’m happy to add it to my ever growing collection of gifts from you, sir.”

“Oh, okay then!” he said, thrusting the book into your arms. You lifted your shaking hands up towards the book and clasped it gently within your fingertips; Luffy’s hand meeting with your two in the process.

“Thank you, captain,” you smiled through gritted teeth, still caught in your fluster while your captain remained delightfully ill-informed to his most recent gift’s implications.

“You’re welcome, historian,” he smiled warmly before turning back on his heal and walked away.

The first time that he kissed you, you were unsure if it was intentional or truly accidental.

You were walking along the coastal shore back towards the Going Merry, his arm hanging around your shoulders, while yours clasped lowly around his hip. He was relaying a small memory of his childhood, a man named Red-Haired Shanks often spoken amongst the happier memories. You giggled at one comment, Luffy puffing up his chest in perfect imitation of one of the members of the Red-Hair Pirate crew.

At the conclusion of your melodical laugh, Luffy arched his face into yours and pressed his lips affectionately against the apple of your cheek, uttering compliments of; “you have a great laugh.”

Your face drew into a beet-red colour as Luffy continued to chaperone you along the sandy shore. You couldn’t ignore the rapid pace of your chest, your heat beating irregularly in rhythm and a small tingle ran up your spine and coursed through your chest.

“Okay,” he declared gleefully, “now we’ve got the Red-Hair Pirate stories out of the way, let me tell you about Buggy the Clown.”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied shyly, holding firmer against his waist as he relayed memory about a blue-haired pirate captain who also happened to have similar Devil-Fruit abilities to Luffy.

After that first small taste of affection offered freely from your captain, you began to actively seek it out from him to test whether he did harbour romantic intention toward you or whether it was truly a hoax. You quickly found that, alongside his other need to feel you beneath his fingertips, that his lips also required your skin beneath them.

Cheeks, hands, shoulders, temple, forehead; everything apart from the one place you truly desired was met by the lips of your captain. It seemed he wished to remain platonic in friendship; which was slowly driving you to the brink of insanity. You were smitten, completely overtaken by the thoughts of romanticism with the Devil-Fruit user; yet not readily approaching him with the same manner of unbridled affection as he had been over the past few days. The way you decided to show him affection was to be a willing recipient to receive all of his needs and requirements to fill his cup of his need of physical touch and quality time.

This particular evening, he was reclining against you, laying his straw-hat covered head in your lap as you read one of your novels. He appeared to be resting his eyes, a small snore would fall from his lips every now and again, to which you responded with a small teetered giggle and absent-mindedly rested your hand upon his chest and soothed over the skin beneath it.

As you completed the final chapter in your novel, you closed the book and sighed in contentment; fantasising about meeting a romance such as the one you were just engaging with. You were wrong to seek out a marine: that was stupidity manifest on your part. Of course he was going to leave you, sailors always do. Pirates, however? None had yet betrayed your trust as much as the cadet had with empty promises of romance.

You groaned and brought your fingertips to your brow, smoothing over the headache in an effort to rid your subconscious of all memory of him. Your bleeding, hopelessly romantic heart yearned for that closeness; to feel it truly and deeply – that love you so craved and was met by complete emptiness: lust being the only mutual feeling shared between you and the military trainee.

“You okay?” Luffy asked you, peeking up at you through one of his eyes.

“Of course Captain,” you smiled at him, eyes always soft for him behind the melancholy you were feeling. He noticed the shift in your tone and sat up immediately, turning to face you with his legs crossed.

“You finished your book? Is that why you’re sad?” he asked you, his brows furrowing in the middle of his forehead while his beautiful brown eyes deeply searched yours beneath his long onyx eyelashes. You sighed and shook your head with a smile, “no captain, I’m not sad.”

“You’re not a good liar,” he said with a small smile, turning his eyes towards the wood below you, “you should save that for Usopp, although he’s not very good at it either.”

You chuckled lightly at that comment, Luffy instinctively seeking out your hands to grasp within his own as he continued to hold his gaze to the ground. His thumb circled over the skin on the back of your hand, carefully ghosting his digits along each of your knuckles slowly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you, quirking his head up slightly to look shyly up at you, “my ears are yours.”

You sighed with an overburdened breath, feeling the weight release itself from your shoulders as you began to formulate the words within your mind.

“When you found me, I was at my lowest,” you confessed, “I don’t think I truly told you, or anyone, about what happened that night.”

Luffy chose not to speak, just nod in curiosity at you while you continued to relay your thoughts.

“Your dream is to be King of the Pirates,” you allowed yourself to freely express the words from within your chest, “and mine is just to love,” you nodded along in your confession, “and to be loved in return.”

Luffy circled your knuckles with the pads of his thumbs and inched himself closer to you, knees brushing against each other’s in the process of his closer proximity.

“I was looking for it, actively searching for it the way that we are searching for the One-Piece for you,” you continued, tightening your grasp around his fingertips as he held you within his own, “and when I fell for him,” you grit your teeth, “I thought I had found it. He was my knight, my rescuer,” your lips quivered at the thought, again opening your rage you hadn’t dealt with since the beginning of your quest.

“He was meant to be my love, Luffy,” you confessed darkly, “but he was just a channel for my lust, a syphon of my happiness, and nothing but an arrow to my heart.”

Luffy released your right hand from his left, hooking his right thumb to encase all eight of your extended digits within his firm grasp; falling his left hand to rest against your knee to further comfort you as you expressed your sorrow.

“I-I just,” you continued, fighting the pit forming actively within your throat, “I want it so badly, Luffy. When I think about it, I can’t breathe; I can’t speak. I want nothing more than to give my heart and have it cherished and to love passionately with every fibre of my being.”

You were searching all around with your eyes, avoiding meeting his gaze at all costs; truly relishing in the company he was providing to you, actively listening and hanging onto every utterance and confession that fell freely from your lips.

“And when I tried it with him,” your voice hitched within your throat, halting your thoughts. You gulped down the dryness in your mouth and continued to formulate the words, “I felt truly broken. There was nothing there, only emptiness and suffering.”

“What happened that night?” he asked you, quietly prompting you to speak the words you were trying desperately to avoid, “please. Please tell me.”

You released a stifled growl of anger, directed not at your captain but at the memory of the cadet, “I don’t particularly want to spell it out for you.”

Luffy rose himself to his knees, kneeling over you while removing the hand on your knee upwards to cradle your face beneath his warm palm.

“I don’t care,” he uttered darkly, “you need to tell me, and I’m waiting to hear it.”

“It was lust, Luffy,” you growled, still avoiding his gaze but welcoming his palm against your cheek with a small lean of your cheek against it, “lust disguised as love. Disguised as the beauty and purity of a lily, but truly the monster lurking beneath it ready to strike and devour in its wake.”

“And how did the monster strike you?” he asked, moving his palm down to your chin and rising your eyes up to meet his.

“It stole my dream from me,” you whispered against his flesh, “and left me blistered, bleeding and broken; all alone in the world with skin peppered with yearning marks openly displaying my shame.”

“I’ll tear it apart,” he uttered darkly, his eyes holding true to that promise, “I’ll help you reignite your dream.”

You felt the corners of your eyes begin to prick with the first tears you hadn’t felt overwhelm you since welding them shut all of those months ago. This was your captain, holding your body close to his and promising you with complete sincerity and truthfulness that he was going to help you achieve your dreams as you were searching to achieve his.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered bringing his face closer to your own, “I-,” he halted his words as they formed in his throat, “-I want to help you.”

You creased your brows in confusion at his statement, as he had already declared to you that he was actively going to help you achieve your grand, romantic dream of finding your greatest love.

“I don’t under-,” you began, halting your words as his lips were brought down to meet with your own. Your eyes were wide as you felt the gentle caress of his lips atop your own, his hand smoothing itself over your cheek and begin to lace within your hairline over your ear. Both of you were as shocked as the other, him immediately tearing his lips away from yours and pulling back from your embrace and close proximity.

“I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide with concern, “I don’t know why I did that.”

“Captain,” you addressed him in a whisper, your eyes now releasing a small trail of emotion from the corners of your eyes. He brought his eyes back to meet with your own, floating his gaze between your irises and looking down to your lips once more.

“I want to be that,” he said, bringing his body closer to yours once more, “I want to be that for you.”

“Luffy,” you whispered again, your bottom lip quivering as your heart began to swell with emotion.

“From when you first touched me on the dock,” his smile returned to his face, “you bumped into me, you know.”

You shook your head with a small smile clinging to your lips once more, reaching your hands out to seek out his own.

“You bumped me when you ran towards the end of the peer,” he nodded, taking your hands within his once more, “and you tickled my interest. Your ferocity, your beauty. I wanted that.”

You giggled sorrowfully, looking down to the wooden deck. Luffy chased your gaze by lowering his head to be within your sights; a small laugh fleeing from both of you as he did so.

“Can we do that?” he asked, nudging your chin upwards with the top of his hair before pressing a small kiss against your nose, “can I love you?”

“I don’t know what to say,” your earlier words repeating from your lips, the memory of him asking you to join his crew eclipsing over your mind and memory.

“Say you’ll run away with me,” he whispered lovingly to you, echoing his words back to you with a wide intimate smile made just for you, “I’ll never let you go.”

Sucking in a final breath of determination and becoming overwhelmed with emotions, you propelled yourself forward into his arms; releasing his hands from within your own and lacing them around his neck. The sheer force of your jump pushed his body back and had you falling into him.

The knocking clumsily of teeth within the overwhelming joy of your embrace was the happiest you truly felt. Your heart swelled as your captain circled his arms not only around your back, but elasticising themselves to constrict your bodies together; lacing around his own back, wrapping around yours in the process. You squealed in delight as he held you closer, your smiles prohibiting you both from deepening the kiss further but enjoying the feeling of nearness all together.

Hoisting you into the air, he rose to his feet and spun you gleefully in a circle, continuing to press his lips firmly against your own in a passionate embrace. He placed you down carefully on the ground once more; unwrapping his tightly bound, elastic arms from your body as you trailed your fingertips beneath his straw hat and clutched at the curls at the nape of his neck. He groaned against your lips at the feeling of you massaging his scalp and pressed further kisses feverishly against your mouth.

He trailed his mouth over your cheek, down to your jaw and looped his arms around your waist, pulling you to rest flush against his stomach and chest as you accidentally knocked the straw hat from his head. The drawstring successfully held his hat dangling firmly from his neck and down between his shoulder blades, prompting another laugh to escape your lips.

Grabbing a hold of his cheeks and relinquishing his assault against your neck, you brought his face once more up towards you and trailed a warm and welcoming caress of your lips against his own. His brows furrowed at the intensity, choosing to suck in a sharp inhale of breath through his nose as he motionlessly held you against himself; choosing to feel every emotion rolling from you onto him.

Breaking from the kiss, you both gazed through half-lidded eyes at each other; true adoration and love being completely shared between the two of you.

“How’s this?” he asked you, pressing his forehead against your own and closing his eyes once more as he felt your breath and heartbeat echoing his own.

“This,” you began, closing your own eyes and feeling his love and adoration falling from him in waves, “is fine.”

“Oh, good,” he whispered, removing his forehead from your own and replacing it with a gentle kiss, “now let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #luffy fic #angst #strawhat reader #straw hat pirates #one piece luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x you

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enviedear · 5 months

Note

can you pleaseeee do the reader’s first with billy??

i feel like that man would be a gentle giant 😞🩷

first time with billy bonney...

you asked so nicely i gave you a full fic <3 enjoy 2k words of first time cuteness with our favorite outlaw

tw— 18+ smut, minors dni, piv, unprotected sex, (do better irl) cumming inside

request

billy's charming in the way he helps you off his horse, eyes as bright as the stars above. you let yourself walk with him, hands interlocked and arms brushing together, as you escort him back to your small cabin.

up here, away from the fast-growing town, trees stand tall and animals call out—it's wild out here. so wild in fact, that no one in the gambling den batted an eye when the gunslinger offered to accompany you home. his citation of some recent bobcat attacks being enough to make his sinfully intended sentiment sound as if it were an honorable and gracious one.

of course, not that you gave it any mind. none at all. for as sure as the days are long, it's no question that you've fallen head first for the man on the run. in just a few weeks of his strolling into town, he's managed to endear himself so effortlessly to you.

you watch his slender fingers graze the doorknob of the wooden door, "i can find som'where else to stay tonight, darlin'. if you've changed your mind."

his voice is hushed and you furrow your brows at his admission, "why would i change my mind?" your resolve is unwavering as you look up at him, your stare wrought with permission.

he pushes the door open, letting you step inside first. for a second, you think he may back down, regret his decision at the den, and leave you here alone with only the idea of what could have been.

such thoughts are promptly absolved from your head when he wraps his strong, yet lean, arms around you. his chest becomes flush against you, and you note the prominent bulge pressing into your backside— how could you have ever thought of rejection? this is the furthest from it, this is obvious clearance, a promise.

"you look so pretty," billy whispers, cool breath hitting your shoulder, "i want you s'bad... just don't let me scare you."

another confused expression graces your face, "why would you scare me?"

the gunslinger breaths in your scent, nose brushing along the curve of your neck, "'cause i know how much i want you. m'crazy for you, sweetheart," he pauses to turn your head toward him, pointer finger at your chin, "just don't want to be too much and scare you away."

you ease into his touch, turning to face him, defenses down at his confession, "i won't run, billy. i like you too much."

your words seem to ignite the spark of passion within him as he pauses to let his eyes trail over your lips before finding your eyes again. the act is small but apparent enough that you feel comfortable enough to slide your hands up to his chest. his heartbeat thumps against your hands, rate accelerated.

with a shaky breath, you lean into him, lips brushing his. lingering, you feel as if you're on the edge of a cliff seconds away from jumping into the waters below. you feel him give the softest smile, bottom lip bumping into your own. the little sensation lights you aflame, and you have to fight back a moan when he finally presses his lips to yours.

his kiss is saccharine, loving, and careful. his hands keep you steady, at your hips, drawing you into him. you feel utterly lost in his being. the way he kisses you, slow and graceful, a welcome surprise. used to rowdy farmhands' awkward kisses and scorned by vicious schoolboys' unsolicited pecks, you've never had a kiss so sweet.

as his tongue tentatively brushes against your lips, you feel your body responding in a way you never thought possible. you feel animalistic, wanton and greedy. your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer as you part your lips and let him deepen the kiss. the taste of him is intoxicating, and you can't get enough.

with a sudden urgency, billy pulls you towards him and lifts you onto the nearby table. you gasp as he breaks away from the kiss to trail kisses along your jawline before nipping at your neck. your head falls back, exposing more of your neck to him, and you hear him groan in approval.

his hands roam your body, tracing the curve of your waist before sliding under your shirt to cup your breasts. you arch into him, craving the touch of his rough hands on your bare skin. your own hands find their way to the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them before pulling it off his body and revealing his toned stomach. you run your hands across his chest, feeling the stiff muscles under your fingertips.

you break away from him momentarily to catch your breath, gazing into his eyes as he looks back at you with such intensity that you feel like he's seeing straight into your spirit, "i want you," he whispers, voice husky with desire, have the minute i laid eyes on you."

billy eases you back onto the table, lips grazing your own, the feel of his skin against your own sending shivers down your spine. as your fingers fumble with his belt, you're reminded of your lack of experience.

you pause to look into his eyes, silently asking him for reassurance, "s'okay, darlin', trust me." his lips press against yours, reassuring and gentle, "you're doing s'good already."

you can't help but grow warm at his words, the bravery and candor in his voice giving away your own effect over him, "i trust you." you whisper against his lips, pulling him impossibly closer.

he hums, kissing you again before sliding your dress shirt off your body. you feel his hands roam your waist, following the curve of your stomach to rest on the swell of your hips, holding you steady.

you take a moment to appreciate the sight of billy's bare chest—the way the moonlight filters through the windows, casting an ethereal hue on his body. you catch yourself wondering if you'll be so lucky to have him in your bed again, and you decide then and there that if he leaves, you won't let him go alone.

focusing back into the ardor of his embrace, the kiss as passionate as it was before, if not more. your tongues dance against each other, neither of you keeping a single thing to yourselves. billy's hands slide around to your hips, gripping at your skirt.

a shiver runs up your spine as he pulls you into him, feeling the weight of him press against your thigh. the heat from his body feels almost as strong as your desire for him, and you shudder from the contact, "i need—" you break away from him, hands fumbling at your own clothes, "i need you, billy…"

you pull your skirts up, revealing yourself to the dark-haired man before you. billy's eyes are trapped on your hips, lingering on your underwear as his hands slide up your hips and hook themselves around your bloomers, "never had a lady tell me what she wants," he murmurs, "s'direct."

his words drive you to press your hips into his, wanting him to know that you mean it, "please, i need you."

his lips find your neck, teeth nipping at your collarbone, "i need you, too, darlin'."

you close your eyes, hands finding their way to the button of his pants, "take them off."

you hear him chuckle and he slides down off the table, unlacing his belt as he steps out of his pants. you turn your head from him, flustered as you slide your undergarments off your hips and legs, kicking them to the side to fully expose yourself to him.

the gunslinger glides your back onto the table, eyes grazing over every curve and plane of your body as you lie before him, "you're so beautiful, darlin'."

you smile at his words, reaching your hands out for him as he lowers himself over you. your breaths seem to come faster, riddled with nerves.

you can feel his breath on your cheek, and you lean into him, "billy..." his lips kiss yours once, stopping you from saying anything further. you can feel his erection press against your thigh.

his hands find your hips and slowly slide you towards him, "just relax." he whispers as his eyes find yours.

you feel him press against you, and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for the pain. you suddenly feel a heat wave course through you, leaving a trail of nerve endings burning at his every touch. the gunslinger groans in approval and kisses your neck, seemingly urging you to relax more.

you feel him nip at your collarbone before slowly easing into you. you feel a light burning sensation, but it seems to be more from his movement than from his dick. his hips are gentle as he thrusts into you, his breath catching in his throat as you move your hips. the gunslinger's hands move to your waist, gripping at you as he pulls you into him.

the need for oxygen breaks your kiss, and billy's lips slide up to your ear, nipping at it as he thrusts into you with more force. you gasp, your back arching as he pulls you into him. you hear him groan in approval, "darlin', you're s'tight, and warm…you feel so good. i could stay inside of you forever."

you shudder at his words, unaccustomed to such vulgar remarks. your mind is filled with thoughts that no lady would ever think, but you find that you don't care. the pleasure billy brings you is more than enough to excuse what others might consider improper.

his lips find your neck again, leaving gentle kisses across your skin. you shiver as you feel him pant against your skin, "more, darlin', let me hear."

you nod your head, not at all sure what to expect. as billy's thrusts become harder, your nails dig into the tops of his arms, leaving light trails of red on his skin. he groans, "good girl."

your mind begins to cloud, your body becoming light with pleasure, "billy…"

as he moves within you, your body instinctively tenses and your breaths become labored. billy's hands grip your hips tightly, urging you to move with him as he thrusts deeper and harder. you can feel the tension building inside of you, a primal heat that intensifies with each movement.

"god, darlin', you're so close. i feel it." he whispers huskily in your ear, his words fueling your desire even more. your nails dig into his arms, leaving marks on his skin as you cling to him desperately.

finally, the wave crashes over you and pure ecstasy washes over your entire being. billy's own release follows closely behind yours, his muttered words blending into the symphony of pleasure that surrounds you both. as you lay there, spent and gasping for air, billy wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. his weight is a comforting pressure against your body as he remains inside of you for a few moments longer.

eventually, he pulls out and lies next to you on the table, allowing both of your bodies to relax and catch their breath. you turn towards him, gazing into his deep blue eyes that are filled with adoration and passion. this intimate moment between the two of you feels like an eternity as you bask in each other's presence. you turn and face him, smiling as you lean to kiss him.

you know you've never been so satisfied, and you can't help but feel happy for the choice you made. the gunslinger is kind enough to take you to your bed, snuggling into both you and your covers.

you lay in his arms, exhausted from your previous activity. billy looks down at you and smiles, "you did real good, sweetheart. i didn't scare you, did i?"

you shake your head, stupid grin on your face, "no, billy. you were perfect."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

billy taglist— @honey-bees-13 @poppyflower-22 @black-yn @siriuslybeloved @sherlollyliveson18 @cosmicspacewitch @aravenswritingdeskblog @sabrinasbd

#billy the kid x reader #billy bonney #billy the kid #billy the kid 2022 #tom blyth #tom blyth!billy the kid #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney x reader

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soullessdianthus · 8 months

Note

can i request ghost x reader, kind of like an enemies to lovers/hatefucking type situation 🫣 can be as kinky as you like. thank you <3

A/N: I'm living for this trope with Ghost! Because I believe he could be absolute douche sometimes, but at the end of the day, he would just drown you in sweet affection. (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

Warnings: enemies to lovers (idiots in love), implied age gap, angst???, smut (p in v, slow and gentle sex, unprotected)

Word count: 4.2k oops

It felt like literal eternity serving within the British Army. But in reality it’s only been three years since you enrolled. Since the very beginning of your personal excursion along the nine circles of hell, the devil was looming above your head – Lieutenant Riley.

God damn bastard.

Around a year ago Captain John Price was selecting only a few privates to see if any of the “fresh blood” was fit to join his special forces. You happened to be one of the lucky soldiers.

During this intense year of service you managed to get promoted to a sergeant, allowing you to be more independent during missions than a rookie or a private. To be honest, you were amongst the youngest sergeants out there in the army, along Soap MacTavish.

You were good. That’s what Price told you at the end of the selections. You weren’t as strong as men larger and taller than you, but you catch up in the different fields. Swift yet seamless in the way you moved, quietly. A good aim and fast ability to evaluate the situation.

Sometimes your biggest flaw was panicking during shootouts. Especially when your team was getting slaughtered, one by one and your cheeks were splashed with thick, warm blood. If not your slightly strayed aim and heavy breathing no one would even know.

You were extremely young for such missions Captain (or Laswell) sent you on, so honestly, the way your body reacted was a basic human reaction to such stress and trauma.

And there he was, a man soaked in crimson, his skull mask remaining untouched. Ghost walked right by you inside of the helo, when Soap tried to console you by nudging your arm.

You felt his dark eyes looking at you with scorn, disappointment maybe. Ghost never praised you, not once, even if you saved their arses. All of them.

━ Pull yourself together, sergeant. ━ Lieutenant snarled, before sitting down on the opposite bench.

━ Ignore him, lass. He’s just a grumpy sad man.

Johnny was more than right about Simon Riley being a sad man having a sad life. Perhaps that’s why he got so used to crushing each bundle of joy in his life.

You thanked God in situations like this, that there was always Soap or Gaz to ease the tension between Lieutenant Riley and you. Because no matter how much you acted unbothered and tough or how much you tried to ignore his hatred towards you, Ghost’s attitude was painfully scratching your heart.

Obviously you made some mistakes, all of them had. You were just humans at the end of the day. So whenever you tried to impress the others, looking out for friend’s approval, you were struck by his empty stare full of pity.

You hated to admit it to yourself, you never wanted to, but you couldn’t just treat him indifferently. There was some fucked up part inside of you that didn’t want to let him go. And it only brought more pain.

There was no logical explanation why Ghost despited you so much. You were humble about your job or abilities and overall polite (well, most of the time, lately you began to talk back to the grumpy Englishman).

But what you didn’t know was that Ghost was actually jealous.

He couldn’t stand how quick it was for someone as young and fragile as you to climb to the sergeant’s position. Ghost didn’t possess the features you had – the way you made friends so easily among the comrades, how you practically every time executed your job without a slip up or how you put a spell over Soap, Gaz and even Price. They were all fond of you.

Once, when you got hurt, Ghost couldn’t help but to trace the dripping blood from the cut on your cheekbone. The blood trickled down your soft skin over the curvature of your face, which he involuntarily found pretty for a woman. The crimson substance dripped down your chin and onto the cleavage of your shirt.

Simon swore, he could see your round, full breasts through the tight shirt. Only then he snapped back to reality. Since then he hated himself even more for casually showing such fragility. Ghost couldn’t let you be his weakness. The ghost had none.

But all you could see in this situation was that your lieutenant was disappointed with you. That you managed to get hurt on such an easy mission. “Such a failure in his eyes, am I?”, you thought to yourself.

The other time, when you followed him along the concrete wall, trying to flee the ambush, Ghost happened to be just too close to you. His broad shoulder touching you almost constantly.

His presence didn’t bother you, until the lieutenant's tight grip over your upper arm barely cut the blood circulation in the limb. He yanked you backwards so hard, you nearly stumbled.

━ Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? ━ Ghost growled in a raspy voice, making sure you weren’t shot. He brought you close to his own body, too close. You could feel the warmth of his body, almost welcoming you into embrace. Almost.

━ I got it covered! ━ His gloved hand snatched up to cover your mouth at once. Both of you stilled upon hearing the enemy walking past your cover. Simon retraced his palm only when he was sure the danger was gone. ━ You’re insufferable, Lt.

━ Congratulations, the girl finally noticed. You want some cheers or a confetti thrown?

━ Would like one actually ━ you agreed with a pathetic shell of a man, wasting all of the strength not to tell him to fuck off ━ but not from you. Let’s move.

Ouch, that had to hurt his fragile ego. But Ghost wondered why it actually made his blood boil. Why your little back talk got him riled up.

For years he got used to hearing insults or miserable comments from other soldiers. So why did he feel truly insulted when it came to you and your filthy mouth? He felt similar to a parent who failed to put their child into their place.

So he desired to torment you a little more. However, this decision ended differently than usual, when he toyed with you, mocking each aspect regarding your life.

This time you smacked him across his face, when you were back in the helo taking a few soldiers back to base. One too many malicious comments from the lieutenant and you snapped.

Of course you regretted being so carried out by emotions, but slapping Ghost across his stupid mask gave you a sense of relief. Bastard deserved that.

You were surprised when one of the women in the barracks told you that Ghost is asking for your presence in his office. That it’s urgent.

It has been a couple of days since “the incident” and since then you hadn’t been forced to spend time with him, not in the training area nor in the cafeteria.

You jumped out of your bed and pulled on the high trail shoes and stuffed the legs of your pants inside of them. There were many ideas coming to your mind, why he requested your presence. Perhaps, the little disagreement in the helo was too much. Maybe the Captain was there with him, ready to reprimand you for such disrespect towards the Lt?

Who knew, the only way to find out was to go and see for yourself. So you did.

The base seemed more empty than ever before, most of the soldiers being sent away on missions. Or on a training grounds, far from the main building.

So you walked with a steady pace down the hallway until your eyes managed to read the label “Lt Riley” on the doors. Before your hand reached for the handle, you acknowledged the state your body was in – wrist and slender fingers shaking, skin inflamed. Were you afraid of this confrontation? What was wrong with you?

A loud sigh left your mouth and your chest collapsed. You knocked twice and entered the office only when you heard his voice “come in”.

━ You wanted to see me?

━ Come, I might need your help ━ such foolishly selected words made your heart skip a beat. You closed the door behind and walked closer to where he was sitting. ━ Fill those just like the example here and then put them aside.

Ghost pointed to the one singular sheet of paper already filled out and your eyes wandered on the massive pile of those you were supposed to complete. The similar stack was on the lieutenant’s right.

━ And you can’t do it yourself? ━ You raised your brow, looking in a questionable way at him. Ghost sighed, rolling his eyes.

━ Can’t you just do what your told?

You grabbed the folding chair and set it next to the grumpy man. You carefully watched his reaction as you did so.

━ Soap wasn’t available?

━ He’s on a deployment, somewhere in Urzikstan ━ the man wearing a balaclava with solid skull sewed to it explained briefly. ━ Besides, I needed a woman to help me out with this.

━ Oh wow, didn’t know you were a sexist. ━ A surprised huff slipped out of your mouth, when you got comfortable on the plastic chair next to him. He sneaked a peek at your wiggling hips and felt a sudden wave of heat.

━ Fuckin’ hell ━ he cursed, passing you the pen. ━ You think Johnny or Gaz know how to sign their own name? At least you know how to write, yeah?

━ Look, you just said something nice for once.

A not so fake, but forced smile twisted your face as you accepted the pen he given you.

━ Don’t flatter yourself.

━ Nothing coming from your mouth is flattering, Lt.

Within the last spoken sentence you began filling the papers out just as he instructed. The task itself wasn’t difficult, just repetitive.

Minutes passed as you sat next to Ghost in silence. Only the sound of paper sheets being moved around intervened with the quietness. You unknowingly started to chew on your lower lip, distracting the man sitting beside you. But how could you know this, he just hummed from time to time, God knew why.

The tension between the two of you started to fade out as you felt more comfortable spending time with him. Work time of course, doing important things, but in a secluded room and all alone.

Your somehow guilty mind didn’t want to leave the business unclear, there was a need rooted inside of you that needed its explanation.

So you gathered enough bravery and finally spoke, breaking the silence.

━ You’re in a mood for talking, sir?

━ Not particularly ━ Ghost replied, eyes still glued to the documentation in front of him. ━ But since you addressed me properly… What do you want?

He was right. Maybe it was the first time you addressed him with “sir” since the beginning.

━ I’m not looking for trouble, alright? But, what is your problem? Why… ━ you paused for a second, your own gaze drilling into the pen you were gripping so hard between your fingers ━ are you so harsh to me?

━ What did you expect joining the military, eh? Would you like a special treatment?

━ An equal treatment would be great ━ you emphasized on the words, sinking further into a plastic chair. ━ See, you don’t even understand.

Why were you sitting there, listening to him taking out his bitterness on you? There was far more you deserve in life than this. You did nothing wrong to be treated as such.

━ I tried getting along with you, Simon ━ you continued after a moment of silence. You were so focused on the confusing feeling in your guts, that you missed the part when he stopped working to look directly at you. And the sadness painted on that pretty face of yours. ━ I really did. But you're pushing everyone away and that’s not my problem. So don’t dare take this out on me.

His short, but rough laugh echoed in your ears and blush of humiliations covered your cheeks. There was even a hint of you crying in a matter of seconds, but you kept your act together. That’s what he told you so often, right?

━ Jesus fuckin’ Christ. ━ The lieutenant muttered, your face twisted in pure anger.

That’s it. That was the fine line.

Suddenly you stood up, pushing the chair with the back of your thighs. It almost fell down with a thud, but you caught the backrest quickly, before it could actually happen.

Did he just laugh at you?

━ What the fuck is wrong with you?! ━ You let the emotions emerge to the surface, raising your voice at the masked man. But despite the wrong he did, what Ghost said to you, you couldn’t find a dash of hatred towards him. It made you feel sick. ━ Why do you hate me so much? I didn’t do anything wrong!

Ghost stood up from his own seat and out of the sudden his larger body caged you in between him and the solid desk. The Englishman placed his hands on both sides of you, over the countertop, taking away the possibility of you escaping. Slipping away through his fingers.

He pressed his chest and whole front of his body into your back. To your (and his) surprise, you didn’t even flinch. Ghost’s head was leaning next to your left ear. The significant skull mask staring directly at you.

━ I can’t stand your presence, sergeant. It makes my blood boil, especially when you laugh. Because it… ━ he paused, inhaling sharply through his teeth ━ you make me feel things. Though, I’ve no hatred towards you, Y/N.

A confusion overwhelmed your body, when he didn’t snap back or when he didn’t bother to be mean towards you further than that. Your heart was hammering inside of your ribcage.

All these months, he kept pushing you away with his repulsive attitude, just because Ghost didn’t want to allow anyone closer. His heart was cold, so how come you managed to stir something in him?

In a cold-blooded killer?

━ You’re better than me. All those atrocities we experienced, didn’t change you into a fuckin’ killin’ machine. A monster. Because you shouldn’t end up like me.

His right hand, not wearing any glove, slowly raised in the air until it reached your face. With the outer side of his palm and knuckles, the more scarred one, he caressed your features. The outline of your cheek and jaw, the curvature of your lips.

Your body instinctively leaned into his touch, into the tenderness it craved subconsciously. You would never imagine Ghost was capable of such intimate acts.

━ You’re not a monster, Simon ━ your mind was eased, yet body was inflamed with something more. The skin craved more answers, more clarifications. An assurance. ━ Just an idiot.

He chuckled softly, his chest tensing for a moment. You could feel it through the layers of clothes that separated you from each other.

His hand left the side of your face. The lieutenant removed his balaclava along with the skull mask. You knew it, because he placed it on the desk nearby, just in your sight. He was exposing himself to you. He wasn’t fucking around this time. He was serious.

━ Look at me.

Ghost tone was firm, a bunch of words sounding like an order. And like a good soldier you followed this one.

You slowly moved around, before leaning against the desk again, but this time you were facing him – Simon Riley himself. Not Ghost. Not a shell of a man.

His face was covered with many scars and memories, it was true, but you would never say that it mutilated him anyhow. He was still handsome, especially with his messed up blonde hair sticking to his forehead.

You didn’t even realize when the corners of your mouth twisted warmly at this sight. You couldn’t devour it for so long, because he grabbed both sides of your flustered face and pulled you into a passionate, deep kiss.

Something he was restraining himself from for so long. It became agonizing.

Your fingers shot up, surprised by the sudden grasp, filling the hollow depth between Simon’s knuckles.

This shouldn’t feel good, this should have tasted like a sin. He was in a way your superior, he was older than you and he made you believe you were his demise. Which in a way you were. He was ready to throw aside his grumpy mask, if that would make you smile more often.

Simon thought he would never expose himself like this, show his vulnerability to anyone. Until he met you.

The breathing between each kiss became a heavy panting – lovers stealing the air from each other. He has clearly shown how much he craved your closeness, the smell of your skin and the taste of your tongue. Something that was so prohibited for a long time.

━ I still can’t comprehend this, Simon. I really thought you hated me. You’re not playing with me now, are you?

You needed answers, you couldn’t just simply fall for his words. You were not a silly girl anymore. Maybe unintentionally, but during the last couple of months with such stupid behavior, he made you question a confession like this.

He abused your trust.

There was a feeling in your starved heart that Simon didn’t mean to use you or to hurt in any way, shape or form. But perhaps, due to his own life experience, he couldn’t express his emotions or desires otherwise.

Simon Riley was a strange, secluded man.

━ ‘m not. I’m sorry. But the way you fell for my teasin’, priceless.

Simon chuckled into your sensitive ear as he revealed the truth. When his warm breath tickled the skin over your neck, you tried to shield it from him, before Simon latched onto it like a bloodsucking leech.

He stepped closer towards your figure trapped in front of him, but only when he bumped into you, he realized how excited and bothered he got. How his trousers became instantly tighter against his manhood.

━ Fuck. ━ He murmured out, head hanging low in shame.

━ Simon ━ your sweet voice snatched him back to reality from the depths of his worried mind. You clung to his chest, pressing against his toned body, hands sneaking over his frame. ━ Would you like some help?

Fuck.

Simon barely managed to swallow his own saliva, when he nodded his head. He wanted to hold you, to have you. Entirely. To leave shady stamps over your skin, so the next morning you would remember this confession. You would remember him.

━ Not so tough now, aren’t we? ━ You jokingly said, when the lieutenant managed to relax a little bit. When he quit being ashamed of his boner.

━ You’ve put a spell on me, damn vixen.

━ Keep telling yourself, Lt.

The blonde man, still with the smudged black paint over his eyelids, squeezed your hip for a moment, before he reached for the thick blanket from the little, old couch. He unfolded it on the ground and you stepped closer.

Ghost grabbed your smaller hand and guided you to get down on your knees along with him. Your glossed eyes, shimmering with lust followed his handsome face. The face that he kept hidden for so long.

It was a matter of seconds, before the two of you clung to each other, lips connected with desire. Sloppily, you took some clothing off of him and yourself – like heavy, dirty shoes, his warm jacket or your trousers.

Your curious eyes noticed his tattoo. It wasn’t the first time you managed to sneak a peek, but it was a first look from this close.

Simon laid you down onto the plaid blanket and sat on his knees between your legs. His broader shoulders leaned over you, casting a shadow beneath. You kept his face close, leaving a trail of kisses over his features. His short beard tickled you here and there.

━ You okay? ━ He asked, sounding a little concerned that the things progressed so fast. But your eager nodding dispersed the worries away.

━ Still mad at you, it’s all.

━ I’ll apologize then.

Simon unzipped his pants, before he slid them slightly down the thighs. You noticed the bright, short hairs over his meaty legs, prior to him grabbing the sergeant and pulling closer to his groin.

He managed to maneuver your far more delicate form with no struggle, it amazed you how aware Simon was of his strength.

He smudged the flush tip of his hardened length down your now exposed slit. You gasped at the sudden touch there, pressing eyes shut. The soldier kissed gently over your fluttering eyelid and continued pushing forward with his hips.

When his stomach brushed in a swiping motion against your softer belly, you suppressed a mewl by biting onto your lip. Simon continued thrusting into your heat in a gentle way. In a way, you wouldn’t think that someone who hated you so much would do.

The blonde man propped against his right forearm, placed next to your head. You could clearly see how his bicep tensed with each movement. Simon’s other palm wandered over the side of your body, fingers counting the ribs under the skin.

In fact, he was so delicate his touch almost tingled.

Your thighs squished his sides, when the lieutenant speeded up the rhythm of the thrusts. You felt the crude way your bodies were connected and found pure, primitive pleasure with such an act.

How Simon moved within you, how the sex itself was passionate yet not painful, the way he made you feel secure and protected between his arms. In his arms.

When you opened enough for him, a couple of cute moans slipped from your mouth just as he pressed his forehead against yours.

━ Simon. ━ You whispered, the ecstasy of the moment becoming overwhelming.

You leaned for a sloppy kiss. No, not one. You wanted more. He kept holding himself back, waiting for your initiations.

So when you welcomed him inside your mouth, he clung to it tighter. The coiling pressure in your tummy grew stronger, making your fingers numb.

━ Si–Simon, I–

You didn’t have to finish the sentence, he already knew. The lieutenant could read you like a book. His favorite one.

━ Fuck, me too. ━ He groaned through his teeth, feeling his cock twitch inside of you.

Your hips bucked vividly into him, when you nuzzled your head into Simon’s neck – exactly where it meets with the shoulder. His scent was heavy in the air. The sound of his loud breaths filled your ears.

━ Don’t stop, don’t stop. ━ You chanted whispering, slowly drifting yourself into upcoming orgasm.

So when the coiling feeling of climax snapped inside of you, you let out a breathless moan. Your slender fingers squeezing around Simon’s arm and shoulder, lower half of the body spasming uncontrollably.

The lieutenant nearly lost himself within the divine sensations your body provided him with. Simon’s shoulders tensed, thighs flexed and he continued to lead you through your pleasure, meanwhile chasing his own.

And finally, when you started becoming limp on that plaid blanket beneath with a final, eager thrust, he climaxed too. His hips shuttered, mouth fallen agape while riding through his own peak. The Englishman muttered your name on repeat for a moment as his length throbbed.

Simon was so preoccupied with blinding delight that he hadn’t noticed when your hand cupped his jaw, another one sneaking onto his occiput, slowly rubbing circles.

━ You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’. ━ He declared amazed, carefully resting down his body over yours.

You still, up to this moment, couldn’t believe what just had happened. The months of rage and scuffles ended in his office, on the floor. Nearly naked.

His scent was stronger than ever before – a specific brand of aftershave or a cologne? Nonetheless, it smelled like burned wood, like a campfire on a summer night. Perhaps maybe because of that you felt safe in Ghost’s embrace.

Since you laid down your head on his chest, he couldn’t stop touching your hair. The lieutenant played with the loose strands of it, flicking between his coarse fingers.

He had already given you his warm jacket, which you gladly put on and snuggled against his side, like a big teddy bear. One of your shaking legs, hooked over his. Simon pushed you even closer with his arm wrapped around your back.

━ So ━ Simon spoke softly, making sure you hadn’t fallen asleep prior to it ━ you still angry with me, eh?

━ Still debating about that, Lt.

━ Quit teasin’, bonnie.

You giggled like a foolish teenager again, your head adjusting on top of his chest. The lieutenant placed his palm over yours and you could observe how his ribcage was opening up and slowly falling down.

God, this shouldn’t feel so good.

━ Simon, shouldn’t we finish the reports?

━ Yeah, in a minute. Let’s stay like that a lil’ longer.

#request #reader insert #ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #smut #enemies to lovers

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Text

Ritornello (Alastor x Cursed!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: I don't think there are any but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 3,565

Previous Part: Rhapsody

Next Part: Rapture

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Okay I know that canonically Charlie is like 200 but we're gonna make her 25.

After everything with Alastor, Y/n tried to continued their life as it had been before he'd stepped into. It was challenging, they faltered and misstepped. They had been good at being on their own once but now that they had a taste of the alternative, it was difficult to fall back into their old ways. Eventually, they managed to fall into a new pattern of being.

They were a bit more careful now, they didn't dash out unannounced from behind corners or secret hiding places. Seeing Alastor was the last thing they wanted to do. Now, they had someone to avoid.

For seventeen years, they continued on like this. They struggled through their battles on their own, against the overlords and against their own personal situation. They searched high and low for a cure but the only things they ever seemed able to come up with were false promises and temporary fixes. Every day, the curse the overlords had placed on them to limit their powers was growing stronger. Every time they used their magic, played their music, it became more and more corrupted and so, they learned to fight with their hands. This was until they got the call from Lucifer, of course.

The pair were old friends of a sort. Y/n had met him by chance within their first few days in Hell when he'd pulled them out of a tight spot. They didn't spend time together ever or really see one another at all but, Y/n had a vague sort of trust for the man, a strong sense of a debt needing to be repaid. Y/n didn't like owing people things, not even back when they were alive. They didn't like depending on people in that way. When he asked them if they could keep an eye on his daughter, they couldn't refuse.

Charlie was a lot. At twelve years old, she was bright and over the top and constantly bursting out into song. At first, Y/n had been rather uncertain about the whole arrangement, even when she'd gone through her emo phase at fifteen.

Y/n tried to steer clear of them for the most part. Picking her up from school, dropping her off. Babysitting when her parents needed a night to themselves, the normal stuff. When the issues started between Lilith and Lucifer, Charlie was suddenly thrust into Y/n's life a lot more. She had no idea the real reason, both her parents wanting to keep the trouble from her due to their own care and protective natures, and Y/n tried their best to keep it that way. It didn't help that by sixteen, Charlie had practically moved in with the demon but they managed.

Charlie had always pushed for a connection, something more than Y/n making her dinner and getting her where she needed to go. Y/n resisted at all costs. They'd been hurt before by trust, by care. The idea of going through it all again was terrifying. That all changed the day Charlie found out about the curse.

Y/n hadn't meant for her to find out. One of their situation's many many downsides was that while the curse ate away at their magic, it also ate away at their physical form. If they weren't careful, if they didn't temper their emotions and make sure they were eating enough raw meat, the beast would take over.

The beast was a horrific thing in their eyes, blood hungry and devastating. It was sub-human, sub-demon even, writhing and scornful. A mass of twisting shells of prey, a mass of claws and sharp teeth.

Of course, Y/n couldn't keep it from Charlie forever and on one fateful evening, Y/n had transformed. They'd been overworked, stressed about the fact that the Vees were gaining more territory and power, that soon they would be practically untouchable. They had forgotten to take care of themselves in the rush of it all, prioritizing Charlie and their plans.

When they had come back to their senses, come back to themself, it had been to the sight of Charlie. With a damp rag held to their forehead by the demoness and a whole lot of bones from victims of their situation on the floor around them, they had opened their eyes. Y/n had expected Charlie to flinch, to run in fear, to tell Lucifer who knew nothing about the curse. Instead, she had smiled brightly and told Y/n she was glad they were okay. From that day forward, they were absolutely inseparable, completely attached at the hip.

With Charlie's help and cheerful influence, Y/n was beginning to learn how to exist. They loved the girl like she was their own and Charlie knew if she ever had an issue of any sort, she could go to Y/n about it. Even when Y/n had relayed the story of how they'd been cursed and why, there had been no issues, no qualms, nothing. Charlie promised her watcher that she would help them break the curse, no matter what it took.

It was watching Charlie come into herself as a young adult, watching her meet and fall in love with Vaggie that made the real difference. The princess of Hell was unapologetically herself and Vaggie took everything she had to offer with open arms. Slowly but surely, the search for a cure took a back seat as did Y/n's goal of taking down the overlords of Hell. Their life was different, but they were happy. They found themself wishing for the past, the one they had shared with Alastor, less and less, channeling their energy into the world around them. They didn't even notice when the reports started to come in that the Radio Demon of the overlords had seemingly vanished.

Things hadn't been without their challenges. Charlie's relationship with her dad was strained to say the least and when her mom had disappeared? She'd been absolutely inconsolable but with one another's help, they figured things out, made it through.

When Charlie pitched the idea of the Happy Hotel, Y/n had been doubtful. They knew a lot about Hell, the way it functioned, the way the demons within were. It came from decades running around back streets and surviving in the underworld of the underworld. It was Charlie's hope that did it, her earnest gaze. Y/n had caved and after months of hard work, the Hotel had finally opened.

Things were going well, too well even. Then there had been the interview with Katie Killjoy, the other shoe dropping. Y/n had watched it from the sidelines with Vaggie. As soon as Charlie had come down off the set, they had enveloped her in their arms and held them close. With Vaggie's help, they managed to get Charlie back to the hotel.

Once she had calmed down a little bit, Charlie stood from where she had been seated in the sitting room beside Y/n, Vaggie, and the hotel's one resident: Angel Dust. She mentioned something about calling her mom before disappearing into the lobby.

Y/n and Vaggie exchanged a look. They both knew the situation Charlie was in with regards to her mother and how she tended to get after one of her failed attempts to contact the woman. Neither thought this was the time or the place to step in however, and remained seated, chatting idly with Angel as they waited for Charlie's return.

When she finally did, it was with a nervous attitude and a strained expression.

"Hey Vaggie?"

"What?" Vaggie asked as she and Y/n twisted to look at Charlie who stood in the door way behind the couch.

"Can you come help me please?"

Vaggie got to her feet and exited the sitting room with her girlfriend. Y/n turned to Angel to continue their conversation but had barley gotten a word to the spider demon out when Vaggie stepped back in the room.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah?" Y/n replied calmly.

"Charlie actually needs our help with this one, I think."

"Alright then." Y/n got to their feet, shooting a glance back at Angel, "A true hotelier's work is never done." they lightly joked and Angel rolled his eyes.

"What's this about?" Y/n asked Vaggie as they followed her down the hall towards the hotel's main entrance.

"Just..." Vaggie sighed, "you'll see."

Noting the girl's odd behavior and stressed demeanor, Y/n steeled themselves. Not much put Vaggie on edge. She was strong, toughened, as far as Y/n knew, by a brutal upbringing in the streets of Hell. While each use of their powers made the curse grow stronger, they would not hesitate to protect Charlie or her dreams should the need arise. Besides, they'd become quite good at other means of self preservation over the years.

As they rounded the corner into the lobby space, Y/n was greeted by a flash of red as someone pushed past Charlie into the space from the street and a familiar voice.

"Excuse my sudden visit, but I saw your fiasco on the picture show and I just couldn't resist. What a performance! Why I haven't been that entertained since the stock market crash of 1929. So many orphans."

Y/n let out a low growl, summoning their lute into their hands and Vaggie pointed her spear at the Radio Demon. It was pure instinct. If they knew anyone, they knew Alastor and redemption was not the Radio Demon's cup of tea. As Charlie shut the door, he turned to face them. Y/n walked a few steps forward, planting their feet a little ways away from Alastor and poising their fingers to play.

"Get out of here." They said through gritted teeth.

Alastor's eyes widened with recognition for the smallest moment. As quick as he had lost it, he regained his composure.

"My what a protective force this Hazbin Hotel has." Alastor mused.

"It's called the Happy Hotel actually?" Charlie hesitantly corrected and he laughed.

"Not anymore its not. I did you the favor of fixing your sign."

A little threat couldn't hurt, a little reminder of who he was dealing with. Alastor had no idea Y/n was any less capable than when he'd first met them. One little note couldn't hurt, wouldn't show any of the damage done. Y/n plucked a single string on their instrument and the room around them began to glow. Everyone's hair lifted around their faces, the loose edges of their clothes beginning to flutter.

"Get out of here now. I wont ask you again."

"Now, is that anyway to treat an old friend?" Alastor replied, smirking.

Everything suddenly clicked into place. There was something different about him. Y/n couldn't put their finger on exactly what it was, but they could tell he hadn't been lying. He'd been at the Hotel for at least five minutes by now, maybe more with all Charlie and Vaggie's running back and forth since his arrival. If he had had any truly negative intentions, they would have revealed themselves, especially to Y/n. Alastor was a good liar, but no one was that good, good enough to trick someone who had watched them become the person they are.

"Old friend?" Vaggie repeated, turning to Y/n in confusion.

Their grimace faltered, before falling completely. They released their instrument, letting it hang loosely in their hand by their side.

"Alastor! You're embarrassing me in front of my kid."

"Your kid?" Alastor asked after a moment.

This time the shocked expression that crept its way onto his face stayed there.

"You know him?" Charlie asked at the same moment as Alastor spoke.

Y/n let their instrument dissolve into the air and gestured to Charlie.

"My kid. And yes, Charlie. I know Alastor."

Alastor turned, looking Charlie up and down.

"You got with Lucifer?" Alastor asked in confusion as he looked back at Y/n.

They laughed lightly at the notion, unable to stop themselves. They shook their head.

"No. Oh my gosh, I would never. Seriously just... great guy and all but no thank you. I just take care of his kid for him. Well, used to. We sorta got attached."

Charlie walked up to Y/n as they spoke, pulling them into a side hug.

"Y/n practically raised me. They were kinda the only one who was always there for me."

Y/n looked down at Charlie with a fond smile. They ruffled her hair and Charlie quickly batted their hand away.

It was clear to Alastor that Y/n had changed. They were no longer the trouble making demon he had known, that he had loved. Still, there was that same spark in their eyes, that fervent desire, that want. From just the small interaction playing out before him, he could tell that Y/n had learned how to trust and protect rather than just fight. They had learned to live hand in hand with that creeping need woven so tightly around their bones, rather than despite it.

It made him happy to see, it made him happy for her. At the same time, it caused his heart to ache terribly. They had finally been able to let someone in, and it hadn't been him.

In the years since their separation, Alastor had never stopped thinking about Y/n. Their memory was tender to the touch, shot sparks of joy or anguish down him depending on the day. It was like an old wound that had never quite healed right. Seeing them now was unexpected. The wound reopened. He sheltered himself.

Y/n saw the way Vaggie still had her spear pointed at Alastor, aimed straight at his neck. Gently, they placed a hand on it, pushing it down. Vaggie looked at them, her eyebrows raised.

"If he wanted to hurt anyone here, he would have done so already."

Vaggie stared at Y/n for a moment. Seeing how serious the demon that had become a mentor to her was in this moment, she lowered her blade. Y/n's hand fell back to their side.

"Now," Y/n turned to look at Alastor once again, "why are you here?"

----

It was late. Vaggie had told Y/n that Charlie wanted to speak to them about something in their office and so, Y/n found themselves outside the familiar door. They knocked once on the dark red wood.

"Yeah?"

They opened the door and Charlie smiled.

"What'd you wanna talk to me about, Sunshine?" Y/n asked as they entered the room, taking a seat in the chair across the desk from their young charge.

"Just about Alastor."

They should have known. Not only was the hotel at a potential risk thanks to the decision to allow him to work with them but Charlie had always had a sharp sense of curiosity. Y/n sighed.

"Fire away, kiddo."

"Well, how do you two know one another? Can we trust him? Do you think he means what he says he does? I thought you hated overlords? I.. I..."

Y/n smiled softly, the change in their face easing Charlie's nervous temper.

"We will handle these one at a time, no prying. Deal?"

"Y/n, you realize how suspicious that makes you sound, right?"

"Fine. A little prying. Deal?"

"Deal."

Y/n leaned back in their chair, letting out a sigh of nostalgia. Their hands rested on their stomach as they kicked their feet up onto Charlie's desk.

"I... I met Alastor practically right after he arrived. We both thought the overlord system was dumb and so, we decided to team up."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Charlie. The young demoness had always loved Y/n's stories, begged to hear them. They had never once heard this one before.

"Is that all?"

Y/n shook their head.

"We dated."

"You dated!" Charlie exclaimed in shock, nearly jumping out of her seat, "You dated the Radio Demon. Were you in love?"

Of course she'd go on and ask that next. Not 'how'd that happen?' not 'when was this?' No, Charlie had to go for the hardest question first, like she always did.

"Yes." Y/n hesitantly replied, "I did."

"I... oh my god. This is actually crazy. You dated? You actually dated. Like for real, in love, dated."

"Alright." Y/n clapped their hands, taking their feet off the desk and righting themselves in their chair, "Next question."

"Bu-"

"I said some prying."

"Fine." Charlie sighed, crossing her arms, "But I am gonna get that story out of you eventually."

"I'm sure you will, sunshine." Y/n chuckled lightly, "Now. Can we trust him? I... I'm not sure."

All the excitement vanished from Charlie as she looked seriously over at Y/n.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because, he's up to something but not with us. Or, if it is with us, it's not to hurt us. I... something happened to him, something is different. I am not sure what I just... he's not here to hurt us... I think..."

"You think?" Charlie repeated indignantly, "Can you be a little more sure of that maybe? Why only think?"

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, Charls. Maybe being an overlord is what changed him. I have no way of knowing but my gut tells me he's okay, at least for now."

"You knew him before he became an overlord?"

"You really think I would team up with one of those bitches? Come on. You know I hate them."

"I-"

"Next question." Y/n quickly interrupted, not wanting to think on the past anymore than was necessary, "I think he does mean what he says, as was implied in whether or not I trusted him but the same caveats that applied there apply here too. And I do hate overlords, I just..."

"You just love him." Charlie teased.

Y/n's cheeks grew hot. They looked away.

"I do not. I loved him. There is a difference."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why did you guys break up?"

Y/n turned back to Charlie. They couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Well, he became an overlord. Also I maybe... never told him. About the curse. He could tell something was up and..." Y/n took a breath, "couldn't take it after a while I guess."

"So you guys still loved each other when you broke up."

"What are you scheming over there."

"Nothing! Nothing!" Charlie quickly replied as she not so discreetly scribbled something on a piece of paper, "How long were you together?"

Y/n placed their hands on the arms of the chair, pulling themselves to their feet.

"Alright, trouble maker, I think thats enough lore outta me tonight."

"But Y/n!"

"I'm gonna go to bed. Vaggie already headed upstairs for the night I think. Sweet dreams, princess."

"Good night Y/n." Charlie dejectedly replied as she realized she really wasn't going to be getting anything else out of her mentor that night.

"Good night."

Y/n was about half way through the Hotel back to their room when they felt a hand on their shoulder. Reacting purely out of instinct, they ducked out from under the person's grip, spinning around with their fists raised. Alastor smiled down at Y/n and they sighed.

"What is it?" they asked, straightening up.

He had expected Y/n to be angry, to have that familiar sharp edge behind their voice. Instead, they looked up at him. As if everything was normal, as if it hadn't been thirty years since they'd last seen one another, as if they had just been together yesterday, their eyes met his.

"I... it's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too." they replied after a moment's thought, "What are you doing up this late?"

"You know me, sleep is not my preferred way to pass time."

"I meant what are you doing in the hall, but sure. Yeah, I know you."

"That darling Charlie asked to see me."

Y/n scoffed, shaking their head with a tired smile.

"Of course she'd... yeah."

They stood in the hall facing one another. Just a few feet apart. The silence was thick.

"You seem happy."

"I am." Y/n nodded, "Charlie is a great kid. I was pissed when Lucifer first asked me to look after her, I'll admit it but, she has grown on me."

"I didn't know you were acquainted with the big man. I thought you despised all authority figures."

Y/n looked critically at Alastor, over his whole being. He felt they were looking into his very soul, the heart of all his intentions and desires. He felt absolutely naked in the worst way under their gaze.

"No, just overlords. Especially ones who make deals for the souls of others. It's a stupid and outdated system. Even the best of them like Rosie abuse their power to get what they want."

It was a well sharpened arrow, the remark. Perfectly aimed. Alastor had, after all, introduced the small group inhabiting the hotel to Husk and Nifty just that afternoon. Y/n turned their back to Alastor.

"She has big dreams and the passion to see them through. I believe in her. Don't... don't fuck this up for her, Alastor."

----

Next Part -> Rapture

@moonmark98 @luzzbuzz @snowlotr @randomuser-89 @fakeguysarehot @xdolls-crownx

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